


Cross Your Heart

by jemmaniac



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, High School, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemmaniac/pseuds/jemmaniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the final bell rings for the day, Oliver sighs, gathering up his things and pulling out the slip of paper that Principal Steele gave him that morning before Oliver left his office. <em>Starling Academy Tutoring Request. Library East, Room 214. Student: Oliver Queen. Tutor: Felicity Smoak. Subjects to be Studied: All.</em></p><p>Oliver reads over the paper as he trudges over to the library, dragging his feet. When he gets to Room 214, it’s empty except for one girl, sitting with her back to the door, a long blonde ponytail falling halfway down the back of her navy blue Starling Academy blazer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Good morning, Mr. Queen.” Principal Steele doesn’t sound particularly happy to see him, but then again, Principal Steele never sounds particularly happy to see him, not unless Oliver’s got his parents and their checkbook in tow. “Please have a seat.”

Oliver sits in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, slouching down and gazing around him with idle disinterest. This is nowhere near the first time he’s been in this office, and he doubts it will be the last. 

“Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Queen?” Steele raises his eyebrows at Oliver expectantly, folding his hands in front of him on his desk. 

Oliver shrugs. “Not really.”

“As you may or may not know, we are approaching the end of the first quarter of the school year,” Principal Steele tells him. “Which means that midterm exams are fast approaching.”

“Okay,” Oliver agrees, even though he had no idea the quarter was almost over. Even though midterms always suck, he’s actually glad that they’ll be here soon; the sooner the quarter ends, the closer he is to graduating and being done with high school forever.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Queen, you are currently failing all of your courses,” Mr. Steele says, giving him a serious, disappointed look. “Which means that, unless you pull your grades up in the next two weeks, you will no longer be permitted to remain on the football team.”

“What?” Oliver demands, sitting up in his chair. 

“The school’s policy on student athletes is quite clear. All students must maintain at least a 2.0 GPA in order to remain on the team, and as your GPA is under 2.0 _and_ as you are currently failing all of your classes, it is unlikely that you will be able to achieve that standard,” Steele says. “As of today, you are on academic suspension.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that, for the next two weeks, you will step down from your position on the football team. Instead of going to football practice after school, you will attend mandatory tutoring, in the hopes that your grades will improve,” Steele says in a hard voice. And then before Oliver can respond, Steele tells him, “I’ve spoken with Coach Wilson, and he agrees that this is the best course of action.”

“So that’s it?” Oliver honestly can’t believe this. If he doesn’t play, that means Roy’s going to take over as QB, which is going to be a complete disaster. He’s got a decent arm, but he’s nowhere near Oliver’s level. Hell, he's only a _sophomore._ “I’m off the team? Just like that?”

“From now until midterms are complete. However, if you pass all of your exams with at least a C, we will discuss your reinstatement to the team.”

“But that’s not fair!” 

Mr. Steele raises his eyebrows. “That is more than fair, Mr. Queen, as it still may not be enough to improve your GPA to meet the minimum requirements. However, a strong performance on your exams -- as well as your regular, attentive presence in every period of every one of your classes -- would serve as a sign of commitment and dedication to your studies.”

“And if I don’t get at least a C on all of my exams?”

“Then you will no longer be a member of the Starling Academy football team.”

Oliver makes an outraged sound, opening his mouth to protest, but Mr. Steele holds up his hand, palm out, cutting him off.

“This is non-negotiable, Mr. Queen. Either you pass your exams, or you have played your last football game at this school.”

*

“This is totally unfair,” Oliver complains. He’s with Tommy and Laurel during their lunch period, the three of them hanging out at one of the picnic tables in the courtyard. They were supposed to skip out early today, head down to Coast City to this great sushi place Tommy heard about, but after the meeting with Principal Steele this morning, Oliver’s stuck on campus all day. 

“It’s not unfair,” Laurel tells him, which isn’t much of a surprise. She’s always been kind of superior about grades and school and stuff, always nagging him and Tommy to take things more seriously. “You’re failing all of your classes, Ollie. What did you think was going to happen?”

“I thought they’d remember that my family’s name is on the new academic building, and they’d let a couple of bad grades slide.”

Laurel sighs and gives him a disapproving look, which Oliver purposefully ignores.

“So talk to your father,” Tommy suggests with a shrug. “He’ll talk to Steele and set him straight.”

“You think?” Oliver asks hopefully. There’s just no way he’s going to be able to pass all of his exams next week. He’s not even sure what classes he’s enrolled in this semester.

“Definitely,” Tommy says. “Just call him and let him know what’s going on. I bet you’ll be out on the practice field this afternoon.”

Oliver grins and takes out his phone, dialing his dad’s office and pacing away from the table, ignoring the disappointed way Laurel looks after him. It's not that Oliver doesn't care about his schoolwork, but Steele's terms are way too harsh. There's no way Oliver's going to suddenly be able to pass exams for classes he's barely attended.

Unfortunately, Oliver’s dad turns out to be no help at all.

“It sounds like Mr. Steele is being completely reasonable,” his dad says after Oliver has explained the situation to him. 

“But he’s not even letting me go to practice!” Oliver drags a hand through his hair. He seriously can’t believe this. First Laurel and now his dad? Why doesn’t anyone besides Tommy see how unfair this whole thing is?

“Oliver, he’s giving you an opportunity to pull your grades up and stay on the team. It’s perfectly reasonable for him to ask you to take the next two weeks to focus on your studies rather than football.”

“But, dad…” Oliver’s whining, he knows he is, but this whole situation is just completely and totally unfair.

“Listen, Oliver, I’ve got to go,” his father interrupts him, and from the tone in his voice, Oliver knows that this conversation is over. “I’ve got a meeting with the Board in five minutes. Go to the tutoring session today, and we’ll discuss this tonight when I get home.”

Oliver sighs, frustrated. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll talk to you tonight.” He ends the call and shoves the phone back into his pocket, making his way back over to where Tommy and Laurel are waiting for him.

“How’d it go?” Tommy asks, even though he’s already making a sympathetic face.

“Not great. He said that I need to focus on my studies and that missing a couple of weeks of practice won’t kill me.”

“He’s right, Ollie,” Laurel says, wrapping her hand around his and giving him a gentle smile. Oliver sighs, feeling a surge of irritation. He doesn’t get why she can’t just take his side occasionally. “It might even be good for you.”

“Right,” Oliver scoffs. “Because nothing is better for you than spending the afternoon cooped up in a dank, dark library.”

“Ollie,” Laurel sighs, but Oliver shakes his head, pulling away from her.

“Forget it,” he says, hiking his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ll see you guys later.”

*

After the final bell rings for the day, Oliver sighs, gathering up his things and pulling out the slip of paper that Principal Steele gave him that morning before Oliver left his office.

_2nd Floor, Library East, Room 214. Student: Oliver Queen. Tutor: Felicity Smoak. Subjects to be Studied: All._

Oliver reads over the paper as he trudges over to the library, dragging his feet. When he gets to Room 214, it’s empty except for one girl, sitting with her back to the door, a long blonde ponytail falling halfway down the back of her navy blue Starling Academy blazer. 

“Felicity Smoak?” he asks, and the girl turns around to face him, she's got black-rimmed glasses and blue eyes and a red pen caught between her teeth. “Hi. I’m Oliver Queen.”

“I know who you are,” she says immediately, reaching up to take the pen out of her mouth. “You’re Oliver Queen. You’re captain of the football team, and you’re dating Laurel Lance, and you’ve got Ms. Lewis’s Chemistry class first period.” Oliver quirks an eyebrow, and Felicity rushes to continue. “Not that I’m a stalker or anything, because I’m not. I just know about the football thing because, well, everyone knows that, and everyone also knows you’re with Laurel, and I’m actually in your Chem class, so. Not a stalker. Just a girl who can’t seem to stop babbling. Which I will do, in 3...2...1…”

“You’re in my Chemistry class?” Oliver asks, not sure how else to respond to her ramble. He feels like he’d remember if they’d had a class together, but then again, he hasn’t actually gone to Chemistry since the beginning of the semester. Most mornings, he doesn’t manage to make it to school until right after the second period bell, so first period is always a wash. 

“Yep,” she says. “Are you here for tutoring?”

“I am,” Oliver confirms, handing over the tutoring request form. Her nails are painted a cheerful sky blue, and her fingertips brush his as she takes the paper. 

“So,” she says, scanning the paper and then looking back up at him. “It looks like we’ll be doing everything.” She blinks, her cheeks going red, and she shakes her head once before he can respond. “Academically, I mean. Not...other kinds of everything.”

Oliver smiles before he can stop himself. Despite the fact that this whole tutoring thing is completely ridiculous and utterly unfair, he thinks that Felicity herself might not be too bad. Sure, she’s sort of awkward and rambly, but, underneath the geek glasses and the school uniform, she’s actually kind of hot, which is a bonus he totally did not expect. 

He drops his backpack on the ground and slides into the chair next to her, noticing with no small amount of satisfaction the way she can’t seem to stop stealing glances at him, how her cheeks are still a little flush. This is going to be even easier than he’d hoped. 

“You know,” he tells her, leaning over to talk to her in a low voice, bracing his elbows on the table in front of her and getting right in her personal space. “I kind of like the idea that we’ll be doing _everything_ together.”

“Um,” Felicity says, blinking owlishly at him behind her glasses. 

“And,” Oliver says, reaching over and sliding his arm across the back of her chair, leaning in close enough that he can smell the bright, citrusy scent of her shampoo. “I know that you’ll be a really big help getting my grades back up.”

“That’s the plan,” Felicity agrees, but her voice comes out low and breathless and her gaze keeps flicking down to his mouth.

“Maybe we can start with Chemistry, since we’re in it together,” he says and she nods, looking a little dazed. “We’re doing those, like, equation things right? With chemical symbols or something?”

“Balancing chemical equations,” Felicity supplies, one corner of her mouth quirking up in amusement.

“Right,” Oliver agrees easily. “Chemical equations. We’ve got worksheets due on that, right?”

“We did,” Felicity agrees, pulling away from him just the slightest bit, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “But those were due weeks ago. Ms. Lewis already handed them back.”

“How’d you do?”

“Perfect score,” Felicity tells him, smiling.

“Hmm,” Oliver hums, tapping his fingers against his lips in mock-contemplation. “I must have forgotten to turn mine in. Can I borrow yours? Just until tomorrow.” 

“You’re joking,” Felicity scoffs. She’s not blushing anymore, and the look on her face is suddenly less charmed and more annoyed. “You want me to let you cheat off of me?”

“No,” Oliver lies, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. “I just want to double check my answers.”

“Yeah, no,” Felicity tells him. “That is not happening. _Ever._ ”

“Come on, Felicity,” Oliver says, smiling at her again, trying to get the charm working. “It’s no big deal. You’ve already gotten the worksheets back, you said so yourself. And we won’t get caught, I promise.” 

Felicity’s face falls, like he's disappointed her somehow, and Oliver feels a strange, unexpected surge of regret.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and even as the words are leaving his mouth, he can’t believe he’s saying them. "I didn't think--"

“I’m here on scholarship,” she interrupts him, sounding serious. “Which means that if I get in trouble, my parents can’t just buy my way out of it. And there is no way am I getting kicked out of school just because some unbelievably handsome billionaire would rather flirt than do even the tiniest bit of work,” she says, looking at him over the top of her glasses.

Oliver smiles, ignoring the dig about his parents buying his way out of trouble. “Unbelievably handsome?” he repeats, and Felicity blushes so hard her ears turn pink. 

“I mean...I didn’t mean that,” Felicity says quickly. Oliver raises his eyebrows and she goes an even deeper shade of red. “Or, well, I did mean it actually. You’re obviously handsome, you know that. Everyone knows that. There are probably blind women living in caves halfway across the world who know how attractive Oliver Queen is, and oh my god, I am going to stop talking now.” She presses a hand against her forehead, scrunching up her face in embarrassment, and Oliver can’t help but smile. 

He clears his throat, taking pity on her. “Well, if you aren’t going to share your Chem worksheets with me, maybe we should start with Calculus, since it’s the class I’m failing the worst.”

Felicity smiles at him then, looking almost absurdly grateful. She’s got a nice smile, he notices, dimples creasing her cheeks. “Calculus. Yes. Great. Perfect. I am a Calculus _genius,_ ” she says. 

“A genius, huh?” 

“Yep,” Felicity agrees easily, like it’s just a fact. “Where’s your book?”

Oliver reaches down and grabs the book out of his backpack, dropping it down on the desk with a dull thud.

“What is this?” Felicity demands, her eyes going wide behind her glasses.

Oliver raises his eyebrows, looking between her and the book and then back again. “It’s my Calc textbook.”

“It’s still shrink-wrapped,” she says, her voice sounding strangely high. 

Oliver shrugs, reaching over to tear the plastic off. “I just haven’t had a chance to look at it yet.”

“It’s _midterms_ ,” Felicity tells him, like this fact is somehow lost on him. “That means we are _two months_ into the school year. Two months, and you haven’t even taken the book out of its wrapping.” She sighs, shaking her head. Then, more to herself than to him: “How am I supposed to work with this?”

Oliver breathes out heavily through his nose, feeling a surge of irritation. Okay, yeah, he hasn’t actually opened his textbook or done any of the homework, but that doesn’t mean she has to act like he’s a completely lost cause.

So: “I go to class,” he tells her, defensively. She looks over at him in disbelief, and he adds, “Sometimes.”

Felicity blows out a heavy sigh, and for a moment Oliver’s afraid she’s going to quit, just give up and walk out the door. For some reason, the thought makes his stomach drop unpleasantly. Probably it’s just because if she ditches him, he’s got no chance of passing his exams, and then he’ll be off the team. 

But instead of walking away, she scoots her chair closer to the table and opens the book in front of her, the brand-new spine making a creaking noise as she does. 

“Well, it looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Felicity tells him, looking up at him kind of playfully over the top of the glasses, before turning back to the book, flicking the end of her ponytail over her shoulder in this way that makes Oliver’s stomach flip pleasantly.

He pulls his chair up beside her, mirroring her, glancing down briefly when his leg bumps against hers under the table. Her blue plaid skirt has ridden up slightly, enough smooth tan skin visible above her knee that it’s definitely violating the dress code.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” she says, and Oliver jerks his gaze away from her legs, swallowing hard and shifting a little in his seat.

“Oh, uh,” he stammers, glancing at her. “Um...what?” 

Felicity’s watching him in amusement, the corner of her mouth turned up in a knowing half-smile. “In Calculus. What’s the last thing you remember doing?”

Oliver clears his throat, trying to think about it. Technically, he went to class yesterday, but he spent the whole period texting Tommy, so he can’t actually remember anything Mr. Youklis wrote on the board. Before that, he was in class...last Thursday, maybe? Yeah, Thursday seems right. He thinks he remembers something about…“Sines and cosines?” 

“Sines and cosines,” Felicity repeats, and for a second Oliver’s worried that those aren’t actually a thing and that he remembered wrong, but then she nods, flipping through the textbook. “So, trig functions, then.”

“Yeah, trig functions,” Oliver confirms, more confidently than he feels. 

Felicity sighs again, like she knows he’s bullshitting her, but doesn’t call him out on it. Instead, she just slides the book in front him, tapping the end of her pencil on a clusters of triangles in the middle of the page. 

“Okay,” she says, and then she’s scooting her chair up a little closer to his, close enough that her shoulder bumps against him when she reaches for his notebook. “Let’s get started.”

Oliver sighs, cursing his luck that he got assigned one of the few honest students at Starling to be his tutor. But then Felicity turns to him with a smile, and he feels himself smiling back. She’s got a really great smile, and he can still see the bare skin of her leg out of the corner of his eye, and Oliver thinks maybe this whole tutoring thing might not be so bad after all.


	2. Chapter 2

The two hours of tutoring pass surprisingly quickly, and, by some miracle, Felicity manages to make the whole homework thing a lot less tedious than Oliver can ever remember it being.

“You’ll finish the rest of your Calculus homework tonight, right?” she asks him as they gather up their things. Oliver stuffs his textbooks into his backpack as best he can and then hoists the bag over his shoulder, sagging slightly under the weight of it.

“I’ll definitely try,” Oliver hedges, and she huffs out an exasperated sigh, looking unimpressed. "But I can't make any promises if you just leave me out there on my own. What if I get stuck?”

Felicity rolls her eyes. “Give me your phone,” she commands, holding her hand out, palm up and keeping pace with him as he walks out of the library towards the parking lot. It's bright outside, and they both blink against the late afternoon sun.

“Why?” he asks, but he hands over his phone without bothering to wait for her answer. She takes it, tapping away at the screen with her thumbs. “It’s locked,” he tells her, but she just waves her hand, and when he leans over to look at what she’s doing, she’s already opened up his contacts list and is entering her number. He watches as she holds up the phone and snaps a picture of herself, adding it to the contact info. “Wait, how’d you get through the passcode?”

“Here’s my number,” Felicity says instead of answering, handing him back the phone. “If you get stuck on any of the homework, call me or text me, and we’ll go through it together.”

“Okay,” Oliver agrees, smiling as he looks at her picture on his phone. She’s squinting slightly because of the sun, and there’s a flare on the edge of her glasses, but the whole effect is weirdly charming.

When they finally make it to the parking lot, Tommy’s there, sitting on the hood of Oliver’s Porsche and tossing a football from hand-to-hand. He’s alone, which means that Laurel must have gone straight home after cheerleading practice, a fact which probably shouldn’t make Oliver feel as relieved as he does. Laurel’s great and all, but sometimes dealing with her can be sort of exhausting.

Tommy palms the football when he notices them coming his way, and Oliver can tell from the way that he smiles when he sees Felicity that this is probably going to be trouble.

“Well, hello there,” Tommy says, looking her up and down appreciatively before turning to Oliver with a grin. Oliver rolls his eyes and takes a possessive step closer to Felicity.

“Hi,” Felicity says, looking over at Oliver questioningly.

He sighs. “Felicity, this is--”

“Thomas Merlyn,” Tommy cuts him off, hopping down from the car and holding his hand out to Felicity. “I’m Ollie’s best friend.”

“Ollie?” she repeats, taking Tommy’s hand and glancing over at Oliver with a smirk. Tommy takes advantage of her distraction, bringing her hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss against the back of her knuckles. “Oh,” she says, sounding a little breathless.

“Tommy, this is Felicity,” Oliver says tightly, ignoring the ridiculous twinge of jealousy he feels as Tommy lowers Felicity’s hand, running his thumb over the back of her knuckles before he lets go. She seems a little flustered, her cheeks pink and a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and the twinge of jealousy intensifies. “She’s my new tutor.”

“Lucky you,” he says to Oliver. He turns back to Felicity and winks at her, the bastard. Oliver rolls his eyes again.

For her part, Felicity seems more amused than smitten, which Oliver finds reassuring. He loves Tommy and everything, but he's glad that Felicity doesn’t seem like she’s going to fall for his schtick.

“How’d Ollie do today?” Tommy asks, tossing Oliver the football and crossing his arms as he leans back against the hood of the car. “He didn’t sweet-talk you into letting him cheat off you, did he?”

Felicity grins. “He’s not _that_ charming,” she says, and Tommy laughs, sounding delighted.

“Hey,” Oliver says, sending Tommy a murderous look before turning back to Felicity. “Do you need a ride home?”

“I’ve got another tutoring session coming up,” she says, sounding regretful. “Which is unfortunate, because I’d love a ride with you guys.” Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up, and Felicity winces, her cheeks turning red. “I mean...not...I didn’t mean...I just meant a ride in your car, not like a _ride_ ride. Ugh, my brain always picks the worst way to say things.”

Tommy smiles at her, grinning ear-to-ear. “So you’re a senior?” he asks, deftly changing the subject.

“Junior,” Felicity says, sounding grateful.

“I thought you said we were in the same Chemistry class,” Oliver says.

“We are,” Felicity says, and then adds apologetically: “Chemistry is a junior-level class.”

“Oh.” Awesome.

Beside him, Tommy snickers, and Oliver elbows him in the stomach, glaring at him. Tommy groans, Felicity makes a sound that Oliver thinks might be a laugh.

“So,” Oliver says, turning back to Felicity with as much dignity as he can muster. “I’ll see you tomorrow?"

“Yep.” Felicity nods, reaching up to fidget with the charm on her necklace, her light blue nails looking even brighter and more cheerful in the sunlight. “Same time, same place.”

*

“Holy shit,” Tommy says once they’re on the road. He’s leaning back in the passenger seat, one foot kicked up and resting on the dashboard. “Your tutor is fucking hot.”

“What?” Oliver says, glancing at him sidelong and feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “No, she’s not. She’s a geek.”

“Dude. Come on.” Tommy sits up, resting his elbow against the console, leaning in to talk to Oliver in a low voice. “Don’t try to tell me you spent the last two hours with her and somehow _didn’t_ notice how hot she is. And with the glasses and the ponytail...she’s like a sexy librarian or something.”

“Seriously, Tommy,” Oliver says, annoyed by this whole conversation. “She’s my tutor. She’s going to help me pass my midterms, so I can get back on the team. That’s it.”

Tommy snorts. “Right.”

Oliver doesn’t say anything in response, just tightens his hands on the steering wheel and brakes a little too hard at the next light. He’s not sure why this bothers him so much, why Tommy just being Tommy is actually starting to piss him off. It’s not that he’s interested in Felicity, because he’s totally not. It’s just...she’s trying to help him out, and she’s kind of nice and sweet, and Oliver doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to think too hard about it.

Oliver clears his throat, forcing himself to loosen his grip on the wheel. “So. How was practice?” he asks, trying to change the subject.

Tommy glances at him sidelong, this look on his face like he knows that Oliver’s avoiding talking about Felicity, but: “It was fine,” he says. “Harper’s rough around the edges, and he had some trouble throwing against the blitz, but we think he’ll probably ready for our game against Coast on Friday.”

“I can’t believe Coach Wilson is really going to let him take over for me,” Oliver groans, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it, man.” Tommy reaches over and punches him lightly on the shoulder, before leaning back into the passenger seat. “You’ll be back in your rightful place on the team in no time.”

*

“So, Oliver,” his father says at dinner that night. “Tell me more about this mandatory tutoring.”

“You’re going to tutoring?” his mother asks, glancing from Robert to Oliver then back again, a look on her face that Oliver can’t read.

“Every day after school for the next two weeks,” Oliver confirms, leaning back as Raisa fills his glass with water. “Principal Steele says I’m off the team until after midterms.”

His mother blinks, her forehead furrowed in confusion. “What on earth for?”

“Academic suspension,” Oliver says, and his mother quirks an eyebrow in question. “I’m failing all my classes, so I can’t be on the team until I pull my grades up.”

“You’re _failing_?” Thea demands, gaping at him across the table with shocked, wide eyes.

“Thea,” his mom warns, and then turns back to Oliver. “Does the tutoring seem as though it will help?”

“I think so,” Oliver says, trying not to smile as he remembers the way Felicity’s shoulder felt pressed against his, the smooth expanse of skin above her knee.

“Really?” his dad says, sounding surprised. “Because when we spoke earlier today, you told me it was unfair.”

Oliver shrugs uncomfortably, realizing his entire family is watching him and that he’s smiling like a dope. “I mean, yeah, it is, I guess,” he tells them. “But I do want to graduate this year, and if I don’t pass this semester, I might have to repeat senior year.”

“You know your mother and I would never let that happen,” Robert reassures him.

Oliver nods, remembering what Felicity said about about his parents just buying his way out of trouble. The truth is, his parents would probably buy the school if that’s what it took for him to graduate. 

“So who’s your tutor?” Thea asks, leaning her chin on her hand and looking at him appraisingly.

“Just some girl from school,” Oliver says, taking a bite of potatoes and shrugging one shoulder. 

“A girl?” Thea repeats, her eyes lighting up. “Is she pretty? Do you like her? Is Laurel jealous?”

“What?” Oliver asks, taken aback at her apparent thirst for drama. “Speedy, that’s not...Felicity’s not...she’s just my tutor.”

“Felicity?” his mother says, and when Oliver glances at her, she’s watching him closely. “That name doesn’t sound familiar. Who are her parents?”

“I don’t know.” Oliver shrugs, slouching back in his chair. His mother’s bizarre need to know the pedigree and ancestry of every single person she comes into contact with isn’t something Oliver shares. “She’s at Starling on scholarship, so…”

“I see,” his mother says, primly. “Perhaps I should speak to Principal Steele. I’d hate to think you weren’t receiving the most qualified instruction.”

“Mom,” Oliver protests, and then looks over at his father in desperation.

“I’m sure Oliver is getting fine instruction, Moira,” his dad says. “Isn’t that right, Oliver?”

“Definitely,” he confirms quickly. He would have thought his mother would be happy with this whole tutoring situation; she’s constantly telling him he needs to focus on school instead of football. “Felicity’s super-smart; she basically taught me trig functions in like an hour today.”

“Hmm,” his mother says, lifting her glass and flicking her eyes at Oliver’s father before turning her attention back to him. “And you said she’s a scholarship student?”

“I did,” Oliver confirms, feeling more and more uneasy about this whole conversation. Once his mother gets an idea in her head, it’s basically impossible to stop her, and if she decides Felicity isn’t a suitable tutor, Oliver’s likely going to get stuck with one-on-one sessions with Principal Steele for the rest of the quarter.

“Moira,” his dad says again. Oliver’s mother gives him a look, the two of them doing that weird married-person silent conversation thing they sometimes do, until his mom sighs and shakes her head, taking another sip of her wine.

Across from him, Thea is watching the whole exchange with open curiosity, her gaze bouncing between her parents and Oliver. “What’s wrong with being on scholarship?” she asks.

“Nothing,” Oliver says firmly, but he’s looking at his mother, not at Thea. 

No one says anything for a couple of beats, Oliver and Moira staring at each other across the table. “Yes, well,” she finally says, blinking and smiling tightly. “I’d still feel better if I spoke to Mr. Steele about this matter myself."

“Mom,” Oliver tries, but she holds up her hand, cutting him off.

“I’m sorry, Oliver, but if you are going to be spending a great deal of time being instructed by a classmate rather than a professional, I’m going to need the school’s assurance that your tutor is qualified.”

Oliver pushes back from the table, standing up and tossing his napkin on his plate. As angry gestures go, it’s pretty lame, but he’s just really sick of every adult in his life trying to tell him what to do. “Fine,” he snaps.

“Oliver,” his mother sighs, but he ignores her.

"Ollie!" Thea calls, and Oliver turns back with a sigh. "Where are you going?" 

“I’ve got homework to do," he says, giving her a small, reassuring smile, and ignoring the slightly shocked look on his parents' faces as he grabs his backpack from the foyer and heads upstairs to his room.

*

It turns out that Calculus is a lot less interesting without Felicity there to walk him through it.

During their tutoring session, they managed to work through about half of the problem set, but then Felicity said they needed to move on to the work for some of his other classes if they had any hope of getting to everything. Which means that he still has five Calc problems do get done before tomorrow morning or he'll have to face Felicity’s wrath when she finds out that he didn’t finish the homework. Not that he knows for sure that Felicity is even capable of wrath, but somehow he thinks she is. He also thinks her wrath might be sort of terrifying.

So Oliver tries to get through the rest of the problems, he really does. But he’s spent practically the entire day on school work, so when his phone rings halfway through the second problem, Oliver doesn’t even check the screen before he answers, desperate for an excuse -- any excuse -- not to have to do any more math.

“Hello?” he says, leaning over to press his forehead against the notebook in front of him. Math is seriously the worst.

“Have you finished your homework?” Felicity demands on the other end of the line, and Oliver sits up straight, smiling against the phone.

“How’d you get my number?” he asks instead of answering her question. Because, seriously, she managed to bypass his phone’s passcode and now she’s suddenly calling him even though he knows he never gave her his number. He’s starting to wonder if maybe she's some kind of tech genius in addition to being a math whiz.

“You gave me your phone earlier, remember?” Felicity says, and Oliver can imagine her waving her hand dismissively. And maybe it should be a little weird that he can imagine her gestures even though he's only spent a couple of hours with her, but he likes it, this feeling like he knows her already.

“Yeah, but that was you giving me your number, not the other way around,” he reminds her, leaning back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk in front of him.

“Stop trying to change the subject, Oliver,” she admonishes, but there’s a playful edge to her voice, and Oliver laughs softly in response.

“I’m on problem seven,” he admits, and she groans, the sound low and close and strangely sexy in his ear.

“Seriously?”

“I’m not a math genius like you,” he tells her, and she scoffs. He smiles, tucking the phone against his chin and tipping his head back against his chair. “Besides, this problem says something about a cosecant, and I have no idea what that is.”

Felicity sighs and then she’s launching into an explanation of cosecants and cotangents and, to be honest, Oliver’s barely paying attention to anything she says, but he really likes the sound of her voice.

She’s in the middle of saying something about dividing the hypotenuse over something when his phone beeps with another incoming call. Oliver moves the phone away from his ear just long enough to glance at the screen, Laurel’s smiling face blinking up at him from the display.

“Oliver?” Felicity says, and her voice sounds tinny and far away. “Should I let you go?”

“What?” Oliver asks, pressing ignore on his phone and holding it back up to his ear. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to Laurel...it’s just that he really should finish his homework. Besides, Laurel will totally understand; after all, she’s always bugging him to pay more attention to his studies. “No, it’s fine. You were saying something about the hypotenuse…"

“Oh, right,” Felicity says, picking up where she left off, walking him through the rest of the problem.

After that, he manages to convince her to stay on the phone with him while he gets through the next two questions, asking her to help him with things he already knows how to do. And, okay, maybe when he puts it like that, it sounds sort of pathetic, but it’s just really boring to do this by himself. Besides, it does seem like she enjoys helping him, and the math is a lot easier when she explains it to him.

But then, just after they finish the second to-last-problem, she says, “Okay. That’s it for me."

“Wait?” Oliver says. “You’re leaving."

“I’ve got my own homework to finish, Oliver,” Felicity tells him. “Besides, you’ve totally got this. I barely even helped you with the last two problems."

“Fe-li-ci-ty,” he says. He likes the way her name feels on his tongue, almost musical somehow. 

“You’ll be fine,” Felicity assures him. “But, if you want, text me a picture of your work on the final problem and I’ll give it a look."

He sighs heavily. “Fine,” he tells her. “But if I get stuck, I’m calling you."

“It’s one problem, Oliver,” she says, but he can tell she’s smiling. “You can handle it."

Oliver slogs through the last math problem, already bored without Felicity’s voice in his ear. When he does finally finish, he takes a picture and sends it to Felicity along with a short text: _How’d I do, Miss Smoak?_

She texts back almost immediately: _Check your math. 2 + 2 = ? Come on, Queen. Even you can do this one._

Oliver smiles to himself, sliding the paper over and looking back over the final problem, seeing his simple addition mistake in the first step, when he somehow decided that 2 + 2 = 6. No wonder that answer seemed off. He shakes his head, erasing his work and writing down the new answer. He takes another picture to send to Felicity. _Better?_

Her reply comes just a couple of seconds later. _Much._

Oliver waits a couple of minutes, but she doesn’t text anything else, and he puts down his phone, trying to ignore the strange sense of disappointment he feels. He’s not sure what else he's expecting her to say; after all, she’s his tutor, he did the work correctly, so there’s not much else for her to say. Still, he keeps an eye on his phone for a couple more seconds, finally snapping his Calculus book closed in irritation. What the hell is wrong with him? Since when does he sit around desperately waiting for a girl to text him? All of this homework must be screwing with his head.

It’s just been a long day, he decides, running a hand through his hair. He glances once more at the blank screen on his phone, and then gets up and heads into the bathroom to get ready for bed, purposefully leaving his phone on the desk.

When he comes back into the room, his face washed and his breath minty fresh, there’s a message from Felicity on his phone, and his stomach flips in this really embarrassing way.

_Btw I'm expecting to see you in Chemistry tomorrow. 7:30am sharp. Don't let me down._

Oliver smiles, and texts her back: _Remind me: is there a textbook for that one?_

 _Ha ha._ Then: _In case you’re not kidding, textbook is blue, says Chemistry on the front in big white letters._

Oliver rolls his eyes, but makes a mental note to look for his Chem book before he leaves for school in the morning. _Thanks for the tip._

_No problem. Just remember to unwrap it before class._ And then, before he gets a chance to respond: _And by “it” I mean your book. Not...anything else._

Oliver huffs out a laugh as he taps out his reply, wondering if she’s blushing right now, kind of hoping that she is. _Will do._

 _Goodnight Oliver :-)_

_Goodnight Felicity,_ he texts back, smiling to himself.

He puts the phone down on his nightstand, double checking to make sure the alarm is set for tomorrow morning. He's still smiling as he gets into bed and, for what's he pretty sure is first time ever, he's excited about going to school.


	3. Chapter 3

Felicity probably shouldn’t be surprised that Oliver isn’t in chemistry when the first period bell rings, but she can't help how disappointed she feels when Ms. Lewis starts lecturing about chemical bonds and Oliver’s still not there.

She gives one last glance around the classroom and then shakes her head, sighing as she pulls out her binder and starts taking notes. Honestly, she’s not even sure why she cares so much; she’s literally known Oliver Queen for less than a day, and if he wants to wreck his academic future, that’s his business. But, the thing is, there’s something about Oliver that she just _likes_. Sure, he’s the kind of a rich kid doofus she normally can’t stand, the kind who buys his way through life and relies on his family’s name to get him out of trouble, but she doesn’t know. Underneath all of that rich boy swagger, he actually seems like he might genuinely be a nice guy.

The period is halfway over when the door to the room opens and when Felicity looks up, Oliver’s there, his backpack slung over one shoulder and the tie to his uniform loose around his neck.

“Mr. Queen,” Ms. Lewis says, turning from where she’s writing notes on the whiteboard. “How nice of you to join us.”

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, sounding not at all sorry as he scans the room, smiling when his gaze lands on Felicity. He gives her a little wave, and Felicity’s heart flips in her chest. 

“Please take a seat,” Ms. Lewis says, but Oliver’s already making a beeline towards Felicity, sliding into the empty desk behind her. At the front of the room, Ms. Lewis shakes her head, turning back to the board.

Felicity tries to focus on the lecture and not on Oliver, but then: “Psst,” he whispers, tapping her on the shoulder. He’s close enough to her that she can feel his breath against her ear, and when Felicity turns her head slightly to look back at him, his lips are practically brushing her cheek. 

Felicity swallows hard. “What are you doing?”

“I really am sorry I’m late,” he says in a low voice. His breath is warm, and he smells really good, like laundry detergent and freshly-showered boy. “I slept through my alarm. Twice. And then I went to the wrong classroom.”

“Oh,” Felicity manages. He is just very close to her right now.

“So,” he says, bracing his elbows against the desk so he can keep whispering in her ear. “What are we doing?”

“Taking notes,” Felicity tells him and she’s pretty sure she only sounds a tiny bit breathless.

“Cool.” He nods, and then sits back down, reaching down to rifle through his backpack.

Felicity takes a deep breath, trying to re-focus on her notes and not on the fact that she can still smell whatever soap Oliver uses. It’s nice, kind of woodsy and herbal, and okay, she really needs to focus on this covalent bond stuff and not the amazing smelling billionaire behind her. 

She’s almost succeeded in forgetting he’s there at all when: “I forgot to bring a pencil,” he says, doing that whispering in her ear thing again. “Can I borrow one?”

She sighs, because of course Oliver would show up half an hour late to class and then not even remember to bring a pencil. “Hold on,” she whispers back, reaching down to grab an extra pencil from her bag. 

When she turns around to hand it to him, he’s still braced against the desktop, which means he’s a lot closer than she expects, close enough that her nose brushes against his. She makes a completely embarrassing squeak of surprise, and Oliver laughs softly. He’s got a great laugh.

“Mr. Queen? Miss Smoak?” Ms. Lewis calls from the front of the classroom, and when Felicity turns around, she’s watching them with one hand on her hip and a look of exasperation on her face. "The rest of us have opened our books to page 83, if you’d like to join us,” she says, and almost everyone else in the room turns around to stare. “I’m sure the two of you can flirt on your own time.” A couple of the kids in the class snicker loudly, and Felicity’s face gets hot.

For his part, Oliver seems unconcerned. He just reaches over and plucks the pencil out of her hand. “Just borrowing a pencil, Ms. Lewis,” he calls up to her, waving it so that she can see it at the front of the classroom. "And excited to learn about...chemicals.”

A couple of other kids laugh again, and Ms. Lewis sighs a put-upon teacher sigh. “Glad to hear it, Mr. Queen,” she says dryly, turning back to the board. “Now as I was saying…”

They manage to make it through the rest of first period without incident, but only because Felicity studiously ignores all of Oliver’s attempts to get her attention. Mostly, he keeps doing the leaning-and-whispering thing, but there’s also the occasional flick of her ponytail. Throughout all of it, Felicity concentrates on taking notes, writing down chemical bond diagrams like a champ, determined not to let Oliver distract her.

But by the time the bell rings, she’s completely on edge, her heart beating way too fast and her stomach flipping like crazy. When Oliver hands her back the pencil he borrowed, his fingers brush hers and she feels like she might just jump out of her skin. 

“So,” she says, sliding her chemistry textbook into her bag, and hoping her voice doesn't sound as high as weird as she thinks it probably does. “What’s your next class?”

“English with Mr. Simmons,” he tells her as they walk out of the classroom and into the hallway, which is swarming with kids trying to get to their next class. “We’ve got a quiz on this play we’re reading.”

“What?” Felicity stops right in the middle of the hallway, ignoring the crush of people pushing past her. “Yesterday you told me you didn’t have anything to study for English.”

“It’s fine,” Oliver tells her. When she doesn’t move, he walks back to her, putting his arm around her shoulders and urging her to keep walking. She’s distracted enough by this heretofore unknown quiz that she barely even registers the fact that he’s practically got his arm draped around her shoulders. “I’ve got it covered.”

“So you’ve done the reading?” she asks hopefully, because, hey, anything’s possible. 

“Not exactly,” Oliver hedges. She’s walking with him to his class, even though she’s got American Government next period on the other side of campus. “But Laurel’s in my class, and she’ll totally help me out if I get stuck.”

“Oliver,” Felicity groans, moving out from under his arm and turning to stop in front of him. “The fact that your girlfriend’s going to let you cheat off her is _not_ adequate test preparation.”

“It’s a quiz, not a test,” he says easily. Felicity’s about to tell him that whether it’s a quiz or a test shouldn’t make a difference, when he glances over her shoulder and takes a step back, away from her. “Hey,” he says, adjusting his backpack. 

Felicity turns to see who he’s talking to, and Laurel Lance is standing there, all tasteful make-up and perfectly highlighted hair, looking gorgeous and completely put-together.

“Where have you been?” Laurel says by way of greeting. She doesn’t sound happy. “I called you like three times last night, and I’ve been texting you for the past hour.”

“Sorry,” Oliver tells her, glancing at Felicity. “I’ve been kind of busy.”

“With what?”

“With me,” Felicity says, realizing as soon as the words leave her mouth how bad they probably sound. Laurel looks at her for the first time, one eyebrow quirked and a hard look on her face. “I mean, not _with me_ with me,” Felicity tries to clarify. “What I mean is, we had chemistry together for the last hour, and last night we were working his calculus homework -- over the phone, I mean, not at his house or anything -- and you’re Laurel Lance, right?”

Laurel blinks. “I’m sorry, who are you?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest and narrowing her eyes.

“No one,” Felicity says immediately, and then shakes her head. “I mean, I’m not no one, obviously, I’m someone. I’m--”

“This is Felicity,” Oliver cuts in, and Felicity gives him a grateful smile. “She’s my new tutor.”

“Oh.” Laurel looks from Oliver back to Felicity again and, wow, she really is gorgeous. Even her school uniform fits perfectly, like it’s been tailor-made for her. Felicity feels a little shabby in comparison, with her ponytail and her glasses and her blazer that -- as her mother reminds her on an almost daily basis -- does nothing for her figure. “You’re the one who’s going to help Ollie pass his classes and get back on the team?”

“Yep,” Felicity confirms. 

Laurel nods in response, but doesn’t say anything, and the three of them stand there awkwardly for a few beats. 

“Well, I should probably get going,” Felicity says. There aren’t as many kids in the hallway now, which probably means that the second period bell is about to ring. It’s going to take her at least four minutes to make it to her American Government class. Laurel flicks a glance in her direction, and Felicity gives her a nervous smile. She doesn't smile back. “Um...I’ll see you after school, Oliver?” 

“Definitely,” he agrees, but Laurel’s already pulling him away, her hand in his as she tugs him into the classroom. 

*

When Felicity walks into the tutoring room on the second floor of the library, there’s already someone there. The woman is way too old to be a student and her suit is definitely above a teacher’s pay grade, which means she’s probably a parent. In Felicity’s experience, parents coming to see her is rarely a good sign.

“Hello,” Felicity says, and the woman looks up, giving her a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Are you Felicity Smoak?” she says by way of greeting. She’s beautiful in a cold way, and she looks vaguely familiar. 

“I am,” Felicity confirms, trying to place the woman. “Can I help you with something?”

“Mr. Steele has informed me that you’ve been tasked with tutoring my son,” she says, folding her hands together. “Is that correct?”

“Probably,” Felicity says because she doubts Principal Steele would lie about that. “Who’s your son?”

The woman blinks, looking slightly taken aback. “Oliver Queen.”

“Oh,” Felicity says, and then it hits her, that she’s talking to Moira Queen, arguably one of the richest and most powerful women in Starling City, and she straightens, resisting the urge to curtsey. “Oh! Of course. Right. You’re Moira Queen. I mean, you’re Mrs. Queen. I mean...sorry, yes. Sorry. I’m Oliver’s tutor.”

“My son tells me you’ve been quite helpful with his studies,” Moira says, and Felicity wonders if it’s a skill, the way some rich people can make even the most innocuous comments sound insulting.

“Well, it’s only been a day,” Felicity tells her. “But he did really well on his calculus homework last night, and he showed up for most of chemistry this morning. He even took notes, so. All in all, I think it’s been a success.”

“I see.” Mrs. Queen flicks her gaze up and down Felicity appraisingly, not looking particularly impressed with what she sees.

The final bell rang five minutes ago, and Oliver’s still not here, which Felicity is trying not to take as a bad sign. Still, between that and his mother looking at her like she’s been judged and come up wanting, Felicity’s getting a little anxious. “Is there a reason you’re here, Mrs. Queen?” she finally blurts out.

Moira looks up, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Yes, Miss Smoak, there is. I’m here because I want to ensure that Oliver is receiving proper tutoring. He had mentioned you were here on scholarship, and I understand that you’re likely trying to earn some extra money after school, but—"

"I don’t get paid for this," Felicity says, cutting her off.

Moira blinks. "I’m sorry?"

"This isn’t a paid position,” Felicity tells her. "I volunteer for it."

“Why?"

“I want to go MIT,” Felicity tells her. Moira tilts her head, like she doesn’t quite understand the connection, so Felicity keeps going, trying to explain. “But it’s not enough just to have the grades -- everyone who applies to MIT has amazing grades -- so I need extracurriculars, too. And since athletics aren’t exactly my forte, I volunteer to do after school tutoring. I’m also the president of the computer club and a mathlete and captain of the Quiz Bowl team -- none of which I get paid for either, by the way.” Felicity knows she should just stop talking now, but once she gets going, it’s almost impossible to stop, her mouth just racing away as it tries to keep up with her brain. “Oliver is failing every class he’s in. Every class. And it’s not because he’s dumb or because he doesn’t understand the material; it’s because he has zero accountability. Oliver skips class and doesn’t turn in his work, and his teachers just wave him through, probably because you and Mr. Queen just keep throwing money at the school, and they’re worried you’re going to stop if your son flunks out. So yeah, I’m on scholarship, but at least I’m trying to do _something_ to help Oliver pass his classes. Which is more than I can say for pretty much everyone else in his life."

Felicity finally manages to stop talking and when she does, Moira is looking at her appraisingly. She doesn’t say anything for a few beats, and Felicity wonders if the Queens are big enough donors to have her kicked out of school. She thinks maybe they are. Her stomach drops. 

“Are you quite finished, dear?"

“Yep.” Felicity nods nervously, glancing at the clock above the door out of the corner of her eye.

Moira narrows her eyes, this look on her face like she's sensing weakness. She takes a step closer to Felicity, and Felicity forces herself not to take a matching step back. “Miss Smoak,” Moira starts, but then the door is opening and Oliver’s there, and Moira's whole bearing changes, the sharp lines of her face softening. “Oliver, darling,” she says. “Hello.”

“Mom?" he asks, glancing from his mother to Felicity and then back again. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just introducing myself to Miss Smoak,” Mrs. Queen tells him, gesturing at Felicity without looking at her. “I wanted to meet the young lady who was spending her afternoons with my son."

“And have you done that?” Oliver says, and there’s a hard edge to his voice.

Moira gives him a tight smile. “I have,” she tells him, and it feels like there are a lot of things not being said. “Well,” she finally says, blinking and adjusting her purse on her shoulder. “I should probably be going. Would you walk me to my car, Oliver?"

“Of course,” he says, dropping his backpack on the floor next to the table. “I’ll be right back,” he tells Felicity, and she just nods watching as Oliver and his mother walk away, Moira casting one last glance at Felicity.

When the door closes behind them, Felicity silently freaks out. What the hell is wrong with her? She just backtalked Moira Queen, who probably has enough sway at this school to have Felicity’s scholarship taken away and to have her kicked out altogether, and who _definitely_ has enough sway to have Oliver assigned to a new tutor, which Felicity is one-hundred percent sure is what’s going to happen. Not that she should care that much about whether or not Oliver gets a different tutor, but she's kind of invested in him now. Plus, if Mrs. Queen does talk to Principal Steele, he might decide Felicity shouldn't do tutoring at all anymore, and then she'll have to find a new extra-curricular, which would completely suck. Ugh, why can't she ever just stop talking sometimes?

By the time Oliver gets back, she’s worked herself into a pretty good panic, pacing back and forth as she thinks about how she probably just ruined her entire life by insulting Moira freaking Queen.

“Sorry about that,” he says, easily. He pulls a chair over to the table and starts taking stuff out of his backpack, piling textbooks on the table in front of him. “My mother can be a little overbearing sometimes.” Felicity huffs out a sardonic laugh, still pacing, and Oliver seems to realize for the first time that something’s wrong. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Ugh,” she groans, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead. “I can’t believe I said all that stuff to your mother.”

“All what stuff?” Oliver asks, confused.

“Well, first I told her it’s her fault you’re failing all your classes, and I also maybe implied that she’s a snob? So now, she’s probably going to talk to Principal Steele and get you reassigned to a new tutor and get me kicked out of school,” she babbles, but when she looks at Oliver he’s smiling at her, looking amused. “Why are you smiling?” she demands.

“She’s not going to get me a new tutor,” he tells her.

“How do you know?” she asks, biting on her thumbnail.

Oliver shrugs. “She told me.”

“When?”

Oliver’s eyes shifts back and forth a few times, like he’s confused by the question. “Like five seconds ago?”

“That is _not_ possible.” Felicity makes a slashing motion with her hand as she paces in front of him.

Oliver smiles. “I think she likes you.”

Felicity scoffs.

“Okay, well, she probably doesn’t like you,” Oliver concedes. “But Principal Steele must have really talked you up because she said that she thinks the tutoring is a good idea, and that you are -- in her words -- competent enough to continue working with me.”

She finally stops pacing. Normally, she’d see “competent enough” as an insult, but considering that Moira Queen is the one who said it, Felicity will take it. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Oliver confirms, but Felicity’s not sure she believes him. Moira Queen seems like the kind of person who's always got something up her sleeve.

“Maybe it’s one of those keep your enemies closer kind of things,” Felicity muses, and Oliver laughs.

“Felicity,” he says, and there’s something about the way he says her name that she really likes. “My mother doesn’t think you’re the enemy. Now. Come sit down, and explain _Hamlet_ to me.”

“ _Hamlet_?”

“My quiz this morning didn’t go so well,” he admits.

“You mean your strategy of getting ‘hints' from Laurel wasn’t a success?” Felicity asks. 

Oliver huffs out a sigh. “Mr. Simmons stood next to my desk the entire time,” he says, sounding annoyed. “If I even so much as glanced in Laurel’s direction, he was all, ‘Eyes on your own work, Mr. Queen.’ It was totally unfair."

Felicity rolls her eyes, but can’t stop herself from smiling. She pulls up a chair next to his and reaches for his literature textbook. When she does, her arm brushes against his, and he sucks in a breath. She glances at him, and he’s watching her with dark eyes. Her stomach fills with butterflies, and she swallows hard. The truth is, Felicity realizes this whole flirting this is probably just an act, a ploy to get her to go easier on him during their tutoring sessions. After all, Oliver's the most popular guy in school and he's dating gorgeous Laurel, but he's also the most attractive person she's ever seen in her life and she's only got so much self-control. Still, she's trying not to get caught up in his whole handsome, charming _thing_ , so she just clears her throat and opens his literature book.

“Okay,” she says, flipping through the book until she gets to Act I of _Hamlet._ Felicity can feels Oliver's gaze on her, but when she glances at him, he looks quickly down at the book in front of them. She slides the book closer to him, and he shifts in his chair, his leg bumping against hers under the table. His knee is warm against her bare skin and the butterflies in her stomach are just buzzing away. “So here’s the thing about Hamlet…”


	4. Chapter 4

Between not being able to go to practice and being stuck in after school tutoring for two hours every day, Oliver expects the week to drag. Instead, it pretty much flies by. He still misses football, obviously, but it’s easy enough to forget all about it since he’s with Felicity when he’d usually be at practice and he spends most of his nights texting with her about his homework.

It’s actually a pretty good week, all in all, at least until he walks out of his history class after the final bell on Friday, and Laurel’s there waiting for him. Not that Laurel waiting for him outside of his class is a bad thing, except when it obviously is, like right now, when she’s got her arms crossed over her chest and a sour look on her face.

“Hey,” he says, giving her a smile. In his experience, the best way to deal with a pissed-off Laurel Lance is to just play dumb. “What’s up?”

“Just wondering if I was going to see you at all today,” she says.

“We were in second period together,” he reminds her, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder and heading down the hallway towards the library. After that whole thing with his mother the other day, he tries not to be late to tutoring. Not that he thinks his mom would show up again, but...just in case.

“I remember,” Laurel says, falling into step beside him. “I _also_ remember that you barely said two words to me.”

“We were reviewing for the quiz on Monday,” he tells her, frustrated. He just doesn’t get what Laurel wants out of him sometimes. Before this whole tutoring thing started, she was always on him about paying more attention in class and now that he actually is paying attention in class, she doesn’t like that either. It’s like he can’t win.

“Ollie--”

“I thought you wanted me to take all this school stuff more seriously,” he interrupts. “And now I am, and you’re pissed at me?”

Laurel doesn’t respond to that right away, which is pretty much a victory as far as Oliver is concerned. Normally, she’s got a rebuttal for every statement he makes, like she’s using their arguments as practice for when she finally becomes a lawyer. They’re almost at the library when she finally says, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft and sincere, and Oliver almost can’t believe she’s admitting that she’s wrong. “I’m glad that you’re taking your studies more seriously. And I completely understand why you’ve been distracted these past couple of days. But it’s the weekend, right? I’ll see you at the game tonight, and then we’ll have the entire weekend together.”

“Yeah,” Oliver agrees uneasily. “I mean, I’m not going to the game, but we’ll definitely hang out this weekend.”

“You’re not going to the game?” Laurel demands. “Why not?”

“I’m suspended from the team, Laurel. I’m not going all the way to Coast City for a game I’m not even playing in.”

“But I’m still cheering.” She’s doing that crossed-armed thing again, and Oliver doesn’t understand why everything always has to be so difficult.

“I’ve seen you cheer a million times,” he tells her, and judging by the way her expression hardens, that is the exact wrong thing to say.

“No, you’ve played football while I’ve cheered,” she counters. “And you’ve been in the locker room during every halftime routine.” When he opens his mouth to protest, she holds up her hand, cutting him off. “I know that you’re upset about being suspended, Ollie, but I’ve come to a every one of your football games and baseball games and all I’m asking is that you do the same for me. Just once.”

Oliver sighs, because he’s not sure how to explain it. Technically, she’s right; other than the occasional practice, he hasn’t seen her whole cheerleading thing in action. But he’s just not sure he can deal with going tonight, watching Roy play instead of him. She’s got to understand how much that’s going to suck for him. “Laurel…”

“Forget it,” she says, cutting him off. “Come to the game, don’t come to the game. Do whatever you want. You will anyway.”

When Oliver doesn’t respond, Laurel just shakes her head and turns away, walking out of the library without another word.

Whatever. She’s totally being unfair. And he needs to focus on this last tutoring session of the week. So he takes a deep steadying breath, and heads inside to where Felicity’s waiting for him, sitting at the table where they usually work. She glances up at him over the top of her glasses when he walks into the room.

“Everything okay?” she asks. It’s obvious from her tone that she just heard his entire argument with Laurel, but he appreciates her attempt to pretend like she didn’t.

“Fine,” he tells her, shrugging in what he hopes is totally casually way. He starts taking his books out of his backpack, putting them on the table in front of him. They’re on the final Act of _Hamlet_ and they’ve got a chem lab report due on Monday, so if he wants to think about something other than school this weekend, they should probably just get started.

“Do you want to talk about it?" Felicity ventures.

Oliver shrugs again, pulling his lit textbook out of the stack and flipping through it until he gets to where they left off with _Hamlet_. Ophelia’s dead and Hamlet’s back in town, and god, _why_ did Laurel have to bring up the game tonight anyway? He was doing fine not thinking about it. But Felicity’s still looking at him expectantly, so he sighs and tells her, “Laurel wants me to drive up to Coast City tonight to watch her cheer at the game."

“Oh,” Felicity says. “Are you going to go?"

“Why would I drive all the way out to Coast City and go to a game I’m not playing in to watch a team I’m suspended from?"

“Because your girlfriend wants you to,” she suggests brightly, and he shoots her a dark look. “Hey, listen. It’s none of my business. As far as I’m concerned, we should just jump right into _Hamlet_."

Oliver sits back with a heavy sigh, scrubbing his hands across his face.

“Or we can work on trig functions,” Felicity tells him, raising her hands, palms out. “Gentleman’s choice."

“No, it’s just…” he says, sitting forward again, leaning his elbows on the table and glancing at her sidelong. “Do you think I should go?”

“Probably,” Felicity says. “It’s just a football game, and it would probably mean a lot to Laurel if you showed up to support her.”

Oliver nods. It’s just, it’s a long drive and everyone else will be on the team bus, so it’ll be really boring to go all the way up there by himself. Unless...“Do you wanna go with me?"

Felicity just looks at him, her mouth slightly open and her eyebrows raised. “To Coast City?” she finally says.

“Yeah,” Oliver says, warming up to the idea. "We could drive up after we’re done here, go to the game, do the whole school spirit thing. It’s going to suck if I have to go alone. ”

“Um,” Felicity says.

“Come on, Felicity,” he says, giving her his most charming smile, which he's discovered she isn’t quite as immune to as he first thought.

Felicity bites her lip as she looks over at him. She wants to go, he can tell, but she’s really big on staying focused on school work and not letting Oliver distract her, and he has a feeling she'd consider this him trying to distract her. Which it isn't because the game is outside of their normal tutoring hours..

“It’ll be a lot of fun, I promise," Oliver says, leaning over to talk to her in a low voice. Felicity sucks in a breath, but doesn’t pull back. She’s still chewing on her lip, but from the way she looks at him over the top of her glasses, he can tell she’s considering it.

“Okay,” she finally agrees, and he grins. She smiles back, and it’s like Oliver feels lighter all over, like happiness is just coursing through him.

The rest of the tutoring session passes by surprisingly fast, _Hamlet_ and calculus and a bunch of boring history stuff that he only half pays attention to. He can’t seem to stop thinking about tonight, driving up to Coast City with Felicity. He wonders what she’s like out of school, casual and relaxed, not worried about if he’s going to pass his calculus quiz or if they’re getting the right yield in their chem lab experiment. 

It makes it hard for him to focus, which means that Felicity has to constantly remind him to pay attention, something she usually does but bumping her shoulder against his or tapping his forearm with her brightly painted fingernails. 

All in all, it’s not a bad way at all to spend his Friday afternoon. 

*

“So I should probably warn you that I know absolutely nothing about football,” Felicity says. They’re in his Porsche, on the way to Oliver’s house so that he can change out of his uniform and into regular clothes before the game. They’ll stop by Felicity’s house they’re done at his place, and then hit the road. “So I’ll probably have no idea what’s going on and will ask you about a million questions.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Oliver tells her, downshifting and stepping on the gas as they whip around a turn. 

Beside him, he hears Felicity’s breath catch and she clamps her hand down on the console between them. “Wow, this thing goes fast,” she mumbles, sounding sort of breathless. 

When he glances over at her, her eyes are wide and she’s looking kind of panicky, her breathing a little fast. 

Oliver smiles, easing up on the gas bit, and she shoots him a grateful look, relaxing her grip, but not letting go completely.

By the time they make it to his house, she’s moved from panic to awe, peering out the windshield as they pull up the gravel drive with wide eyes. She doesn’t move when he gets out of the car, just keeps staring up the house, so he goes over to the passenger side and opens the door.

“Why didn’t you tell me you live in a castle?” she asks, blinking up at the ivy-covered stone walls.

Oliver shrugs. “It’s not a castle,” he tells her. “More of mansion.”

“Oh, it’s definitely a castle,” Felicity protests as she follows him up the walk to the front doors. “I’m surprised there’s not a drawbridge and a moat and like a group of peasants taking care of the grounds.”

“The peasants only do groundskeeping on Mondays,” he deadpans, and Felicity rolls her eyes. 

Inside, the house is mostly quiet, just the sound of some of the kitchen staff working down the hall. His father’s still at work, and their mother brings Thea to her riding lessons on Fridays, so he and Felicity will probably be out of here before anyone else gets home. Oliver leads her upstairs and down the hallway to his room, shrugging out of his blazer and tossing it down on his bed. He starts loosening his tie, and Felicity makes a quiet squeak of panic, turning around and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?”

Felicity turns to face him, a light blush blooming on her cheeks. "I thought I'd wait outside."

“Why?” he asks, confused.

“Because,” Felicity says, waving her hand at him in an awkward gesture. “You’re going to be changing your clothes, which means you’re going to be taking off your clothes, and while I’m sure you look really good with your clothes off, I don’t think that I should be in here for that.”

“You’re sure I look good with my clothes off?” he repeats.

Felicity’s eyes go wide. "Did I say that out loud?" 

Oliver grins. “Well, I was actually going to change in the closet,” he says, gesturing behind him. “But if you’d rather I do it right here…” 

“Okay,” Felicity agrees, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I mean, no!” she corrects quickly. “I mean, yes, you should change in your closet. Not, not here.”

He smiles at her and ducks into his closet, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt. Just outside, he can hear Felicity walking around his room. There’s a quiet squeak, and he realizes she must be sitting on his bed, and he gets a warm feeling deep in his belly. 

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to decide what to wear before, trying on four different shirts and three different pairs of pants before he finally settles on jeans and an army green henley. 

When he steps back out into his bedroom, Felicity’s standing in front of his dresser, examining the pictures he’s got tucked under the frame of his mirror -- him and Laurel and Tommy at the beach, Thea giving him rabbit ears in front of the Christmas tree, Oliver and his dad at the wheel of the _Queen’s Gambit_. She’s so engrossed that she apparently doesn’t hear him walk up behind her. 

Oliver leans down so that his mouth is hovering near her ear, and says in a quiet voice, “Ready to go?” 

Felicity jumps, whirling around so fast that she smacks right into him. Her face hits his chest, and she stumbles slightly, taking a quick step back and bumping up against his dresser, the mirror rattling loudly in its frame.

“Whoa,” Oliver says, reaching out to help steady her, one hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Felicity says, nodding, and Oliver lets go of her, but doesn’t move away. “Yeah, sorry. I was just…” she trails off, shaking her head a little and smoothing a hand across the top of her ponytail. “I’m fine.”

Oliver smiles. Her glasses are slightly askew, so he reaches out and straightens them, tucking the edges of the frames behind her ears, his fingertips brushing up against her neck. 

“Oh,” Felicity breathes, and Oliver’s not sure he’s ever noticed just how blue her eyes are. She’s got her head tilted up to look at him, and its like his whole body is thrumming, this light almost electric buzz running through him. 

And then Felicity blinks, shaking her head and taking a step back before gesturing behind her at the collection of photographs. “Sorry,” she says again. “I was just being nosy.”

Oliver clears his throat, taking a step back and shoving his hands in his pockets. His heart feels like it’s beating way too fast. “You ready?”

“Definitely,” Felicity says, sounding grateful. 

He gives her a small smile, leading her through the maze of hallways toward the main staircase. They’re halfway down when the front door opens, and Thea and his mom walk in, chatting and smiling, at least until they spot him and Felicity and they both stop, looking up at the two of them.

“Who are you?" Thea says immediately, narrowing her eyes at Felicity in her best bratty kid sister glare. Beside her, their mother is watching both Oliver and Felicity closely, not saying anything.

“This is Felicity,” Oliver says, and Thea’s eyes light up with recognition. “Felicity, this is my sister, Thea.”

“ _You’re_ Felicity?” Thea says, sounding delighted.

“Um,” Felicity says, glancing over at Oliver nervously. “Yes?"

Thea grins. “I knew it."

Felicity blinks. “Knew what?"

Thea’s smile gets wider. “Knew that when Ollie said his tutor was a girl that you’d be—"

“Speedy!” Oliver interrupts before Thea can say whatever embarrassing thing she was going to say. She pouts, and he gives her a warning look. Beside them, Felicity is watching the whole exchange with confusion.

“Yes, Thea, don’t be crass,” their mother says primly before turning her attention to him. “Now, Oliver. Is everything all right with your tutoring? Is there a reason Miss Smoak needed to come home with you?”

Oliver glances at Felicity and she’s gone from looking confused to slightly terrified.

“Felicity and I are going to the football game,” Oliver says, speaking slowly and deliberately, in a tone meant to warn his mother and sister off saying anything else embarrassing or weird. “It’s in Coast City, so we need to get going if we want to get there before kickoff."

“I see,” his mother says, and he doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him, this knowing glint in her eye. “And will you be staying overnight?"

“What?” Felicity says, actually jumping a little and taking a step away from him. “No, no way. No one is staying anywhere overnight. I mean, right?” She glances over at Oliver, all wide eyed and terrified. “We’re not…we’re coming back here after the game, aren’t we? I mean, not _here_ here, like your house _here_ , I just mean back to Starling City. To our separate houses where we will be staying. Apart from each other." Felicity swallows hard looking back at Oliver. His mom is watching them with narrowed eyes, and Thea looks like the cat the swallowed the canary. “Right?”

*

“Sorry about that,” Oliver says once they’re back in the car, driving down the winding driveway of his family’s estate. “I know that my mother can be a bit…”

“Terrifying?” Felicity supplies, and Oliver grins glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he pulls out onto the main road.

“Intense,” he corrects. “And Thea, she’s, you know, twelve, so…” he trails off apologetically. “Although, really, you should be flattered."

“Oh yeah? And why is that?"

“Because normally I’ve got to be with a girl for months before I bring her home to meet my family,” he teases.

Felicity rolls her eyes. “In that case, I’m honored."

Oliver grins, and downshifts as he accelerates, and the car rockets forward. Felicity makes a quiet, surprised noise, reaching out reflexively to grab his wrist, her fingers warm against his skin.

“You okay?” he asks, glancing at her sidelong as he changes lanes, getting on the highway. Her fingertips are pressed against his pulse point, and he wonders if she can feel how fast his heart is beating.

“Yeah,” she says, but she sounds kind of breathless and she still hasn’t stopped touching him. “Yeah, I’m good.”

*

Felicity directs Oliver to a neighborhood just a couple of blocks outside of the Glades, telling him to pull up outside a small brick house with a postage-stamp sized front yard. 

“This is me.” She sounds kind of embarrassed. It’s not the greatest street in Starling, but her house looks fine, white shutters and a bright red door, the grass greener than the lawns on either side of it. “Um…I'll just run in and change,” she tells him. “I’ll be right back."

“I’ll come in with you," he tells her, unbuckling his seat belt and turning off the ignition.

"Oh, you don’t have to--" she starts, but Oliver’s already pushing the door open and stepping out of the car, ignoring the annoyed look Felicity is giving him. 

She walks stiffly across the yard, her posture rigid as Oliver follows her to the house. He waits while Felicity pulls a set of keys out of her backpack and unlocks the door. Inside, the house is quiet and empty, and Felicity seems relieved, some of the tension draining out of her shoulders.

Oliver follows her inside, looking around curiously. The living room is small but cozy, the furniture looking comfortable and broken-in -- nothing like the horrible uncomfortable antique stuff that his parents are obsessed with -- and the walls are covered with pictures, mostly photographs, but there are a couple of colorful posters as well.

“I’m just going to run back to my room and change,” Felicity tells him, gesturing behind her. “Make yourself comfortable."

“You’re not going to let me see your bedroom?” Oliver asks. “I showed you mine; you should show me yours."

Felicity she blushes so hard her ears turn red. “I don’t have a closet the size of a small country to change in,” she tells him, and he smiles.

“I don’t mind,” he teases, and her cheeks get pinker. He really likes when she blushes, the way the spots of color on her cheeks make her eyes look even bluer than they normally do.

“Stay,” she commands, pointing a finger at him in mock-sternness as she starts to walk backwards down the hallway.

“Fine,” he agrees, holding his hands up, palms out. “But if you need any help back there…”

Felicity rolls her eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

He watches her as she disappears down the hallway, and then turns his attention to the photographs on the wall closest to him. Almost all of them are of Felicity, most of them candid shots of her, but there’s also a collection of school pictures, the kind that his parents never buy because his mother thinks they look cheap and unprofessional. Oliver smiles as he studies them, Felicity smiling broadly in front of a variety of backgrounds. The one with the blue and pink lasers is his favorite, he decides.

He’s still looking at the pictures -- his attention caught by one where Felicity looks like she’s about five, her hair in pigtails and most of a chocolate ice cream cone smeared around her mouth -- when there’s the sound of a door opening behind him, and when Oliver turns around there’s a blonde woman there, her keys in one hand and a look of surprise on her face.

“Hello,” she says cautiously, stepping into the living room and closing the door behind her. She’s wearing a tight black mini dress with gold name tag on her chest, the name _Donna_ engraved on it in block letters.

“Hi,” Oliver says, and the woman -- whose name, apparently, is Donna -- blinks.

“Is my daughter here?” she asks.

“Your daughter?” Oliver repeats, confused. 

Before Donna can say anything else, Felicity’s coming into the living room. She’s changed out of her school uniform and into a bright pink dress, it’s the sleeveless kind that leaves her shoulders bare, and the skirt is a lot shorter than the one he’s used to seeing her in, her legs long and tan. She looks...she just looks really pretty.

“Sorry that took so long,” Felicity says. “I didn’t —” she stops in her tracks, her eyes going wide when she sees Donna. “Mom! What are you doing here?”

“Mom?” Oliver repeats, looking from Felicity to Donna and back again in surprise.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Felicity?” Donna says.

“He’s not my friend,” Felicity says immediately. 

Oliver looks at her, his forehead knit in confusion. Felicity closes her eyes, shaking her head a little. 

“I mean...I didn’t mean…” Felicity stops, taking a deep breath. “Mom, this is Oliver. Oliver, this is my mom.”

Felicity’s mom blinks, and a look of recognition flashes across her face. "Oh my goodness, you’re Oliver Queen,” she says, her eyes wide. She presses a hand to her chest, and her dress is just a lot shorter than anything he’s ever seen anyone’s mom wear. He’s not sure what he was expecting Felicity’s mother to be like, but it definitely wasn’t this.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Smoak,” Oliver says, holding out his hand and giving her his most charming smile.

“Please call me Donna,” she says, putting her her hand in his in that way women sometimes do, where they bend their wrist and touch their fingers to your palm. Oliver’s not quite sure what to do, so he just looks at Felicity, eyebrows raised.

“Mom,” she says, and when Donna doesn’t move, Felicity steps over to her, reaching up to put her hands on her mom’s shoulders and pulling her back. “ _Mom._ "

“Oh,” Donna says, with a breathless little laugh. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t realize my daughter had such attractive friends.”

“ _Mother!_ ” Felicity snaps. She looks legitimately pissed-off, and Oliver gives her a sympathetic smile. “Oliver and I are going up to Coast City for the football game. We’ll be back in a few hours."

“Oh,” Donna says again, looking between the two of them and smiling. “Well…don’t worry. I won’t wait up.” She winks at Oliver, and Felicity looks like she might actually die of embarrassment.

“We’re leaving now,” Felicity announces, wrapping her hand around Oliver’s forearm and pulling him towards the door. She’s got a surprisingly strong grip. “See you later, mom."

“It was nice to meet you, Donna,” he says over his shoulder.

“It was nice to meet you too, Oliver,” she calls back, giving him a little finger wave. "Feel free to stop by any time."

Felicity makes a disgusted noise, and pulls him out the door behind her.

“Ugh, I am so, so sorry,” Felicity groans when they get outside, closing her eyes and hiding her face with her hands. Her nails are painted a deep, dark purple and the dress she’s wearing looks even brighter and more cheerful out in the sun. “My mother is…well, she’s my mother."

Oliver smiles, reaching out to take her hands away from her face. He holds her hands maybe a couple of seconds too long, but she doesn’t pull away, so. He figures it’s probably okay. “Don’t worry about it,” he tells her, giving her fingers a quick squeeze before letting go. She pulls back sort of reluctantly, her fingertips grazing across his palm, and Oliver swallows hard. “Besides, now we’re even."

“How on earth are we ‘even’?” she demands as he walks over to the driver's side.

“A mom for a mom,” he says, winking at her over the top of the car.

Felicity rolls her eyes, ducking into her seat. “Yeah, right,” she says. “Because having Moira Queen be vaguely intimidating in my general direction is the same as my mom hitting on you.”

Oliver laughs as he turns on the car, pulling away from the curb a lot faster than he probably should, but Felicity does that gasping and touching his wrist thing again, and his heart starts to race. Tonight's going to be a really good night, he decides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a couple questions that seem to keep popping up, so I wanted to respond to them all at once. If you don’t care about update schedules and/or don’t want to be somewhat spoiled for future plot points, feel free to skip this :)
> 
> 1) I don’t have a set update schedule, but right now I'm posting 1-2 chapters per week, and I'm hoping to keep it about that pace. 2) This is definitely a work in progress, and while I do have an outline, I don’t have future chapters written so I can’t update any faster than I currently am. 3) Oliver isn’t going to cheat on Laurel with Felicity. Until Oliver and Laurel break up, there will be some _moments_ between Oliver and Felicity (like the ones in this chapter), but no cheating. 4) The story will probably end up being between 10 to 15 chapters by the time it's finished. 
> 
> Okay, I think that covers it. Thank you so much to everyone who is reading and especially to everyone who has commented or left kudos (or both!). I’m so thrilled at the response I’ve gotten so far and hope that you guys keep enjoying reading it as much as I’m enjoying writing it!


	5. Chapter 5

If she’s being completely honest with herself, Felicity knows that spending her Friday night taking a road trip to Coast City with Oliver Queen is probably not the best idea she’s ever had.

On the surface it seems totally fine -- it’s just a football game, and they’re done with all of their schoolwork for the week, and Oliver just wanted to some company on the way to watch his girlfriend cheer, and yeah, right, of course Felicity knows all of that. But even though she knows that this is a totally platonic situation, it doesn’t feel totally platonic. In fact, it feels kind of like a date. Especially when Oliver looks over at her and says, "Do you want to grab some dinner?"

They’ve made it to the Coast City High stadium, but the parking lot is almost completely empty. Kickoff’s not for another hour, and Felicity skipped lunch today to help Barry and Cisco finish coding a project for their computer science class, so she would definitely not be opposed to dinner. But dinner feels date-y, which is what she’s trying to avoid.

So: “Um," she says, the very picture of eloquence.

"I’m starving. And there’s a Big Belly Burger just down the block,” he tells her, pointing out the windshield to where she can just make out the familiar red and yellow neon sign. “You interested?"

And of course Felicity should say no, but what she says instead is: "I _love_ Big Belly Burger."

Oliver grins, pulling out of the parking lot and doing that shifting-and-turning-fast thing that makes her breath catch no matter how many times he does it. "Let’s go."

*

“So,” Felicity says. They’re sitting in a booth at Big Belly, both of them finishing up their burgers. “How long have you and Laurel been together?”

Oliver shrugs, dunking a couple of fries in ketchup and chewing on them thoughtfully. "I’m not sure. We got together right after Tommy’s birthday party," he says, squinting like he’s trying to do the math. "So, like, eight months, I guess?"

“Wow," Felicity says, trying to think of something else to say. Unfortunately, all she comes up with is: "Well, she seems really nice."

Oliver looks over at her, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile. “Yeah. She can be.”

“And she’s really pretty, more than pretty — gorgeous, actually,” Felicity babbles. “Like super, incredibly gorgeous.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “She is. It’s kind of why we got together in the first place.”

Felicity rolls her eyes before she can stop herself.

“What?"

She shakes her head, taking a sip of her milkshake. “Nothing."

“That face wasn’t nothing,” he says, crumpling up his empty burger wrapper and narrowing his eyes at her. “You think there’s something wrong with going out with someone just because they’re hot.”

“It’s not that,” Felicity says, and he gives her a dubious look. “Okay, well a little bit it’s that. It’s just…I just think there should be probably more to it than that."

"Well, yeah, eventually there’s more to it than that," he tells her. "But finding someone who’s hot is a pretty good start. You can get to know them later, and then you'll find some stuff you like about them."

"I guess," Felicity says, not able to keep the doubt out of her voice.

“Fine,” Oliver says, leaning back against the booth and crossing his arms over his chest. “How do you think it should go?"

Felicity shrugs. "I think you should like the person first, like as a person, not just a hot person. And, I don’t know, sometimes I think you just know, you know?"

"You just know?" Oliver repeats skeptically. "What do you know?"

Felicity pushes her glasses up on her nose, feeling self-conscious. "You know. You get that feeling in your stomach like butterflies, and you can’t wait to talk to them, and everything is just better when they’re around.” She shrugs again. "It’s just a feeling."

"A feeling, huh?” He’s watching her closely, his eyes flicking down to her mouth, and yeah, wow. Butterflies. “So have you ever felt that feeling?”

Felicity clears her throat, the butterflies just humming away. “No," she lies, looking down at the table. “Never."

*

Football, it turns out, is a lot more interesting than it seems.

It helps that Oliver keeps a running commentary the entire game, telling Felicity about the reasoning behind each formation and teaching her about all of the field positions and reminding her of what down it is and basically just being more animated and excited than she’s ever seen him. Felicity catches on pretty quickly; it’s football, not rocket science -- which, by the way, she also picked up almost immediately -- but she lets him talk, asking him questions about plays and strategy, his enthusiasm contagious. Mostly, she’s just kind of excited to see him so excited, to see him focused on something he really cares about. 

The game's actually pretty close, but it’s only because -- according to Oliver -- Coast’s defense is terrible and so Starling is able to score without much of a passing game. The guy who’s subbing in for Oliver isn’t bad, but he isn’t good either, unsure and kind of small, which seems to make Oliver happy. By the time the first half is almost over, Starling’s up by a touchdown and the sun has started to set. There’s a slight chill in the air that would be refreshing if Felicity had remembered to bring a sweater. Unfortunately, she was hellbent on getting out of the house before her mother embarrassed her any further, which means that she is currently trying not to freeze to death. 

She keeps up a pretty good front for most of the first half, sitting close enough to Oliver that she can leech some of his body heat, crossing her arms over her chest and angling her body so that Oliver’s mostly blocking her from the wind. But near the end of the second quarter, the cheerleaders takes a short, pre-halftime break, and Oliver heads down to the bottom of the stands to talk to Laurel, taking his body heat and wind-blocking abilities with him. 

Felicity’s far enough away that she can’t hear what they’re saying, but Laurel’s smiling and Oliver’s laughing and good, that’s good. The whole reason they’re even here is to make Laurel happy, so, you know. It’s good that Laurel’s happy.

Everything seems like it’s going well, but then Laurel gestures up the bleachers towards her, and Felicity waves, but Laurel just gives her a tight smile in response, and then leans over to say something else to Oliver. Even from where she’s sitting, Felicity can see his shoulders sag, and just a couple of seconds later, Laurel’s heading back out to the field and Oliver’s trudging back up the bleachers.

"Sorry about that," he says, sitting down next to her again, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating off his body. She slides a little closer to him before she can stop herself, her shoulder bumping up against his. 

She just waves him off, trying not to look as cold as she feels. “You’re here to see Laurel,” she tells him. “No need to apologize for, you know. Seeing Laurel." She’s got her arms crossed over her chest and she is trying really hard not to shiver, but isn’t quite succeeding. 

“Are you okay?" Oliver says, concerned. “Because you look really cold."

“What?” Felicity says, like this is the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. “No."

"Felicity, you’re shivering."

“I’m fine,” she tells him, trying to sound like she means it and failing miserably. Probably because her teeth have started to chatter slightly.

Oliver cocks an eyebrow, looking dubious. “Okay, come on,” he says, standing up and holding out his hand to her.

Felicity hesitates, glancing down at the sidelines. The cheerleaders have their backs to the stands, turned around to face the field, and Felicity takes Oliver’s hand. His fingers and warm and slightly calloused, and another shiver runs through her body.

“Where are we going?” she asks, and if her voice trembles, it’s definitely only because of the cold.

“I’ve got a jacket in my car.” They’re halfway down the bleachers, but she pulls back on his hand, tugging until he stops a couple of steps below her.

“Oh, no, that’s okay.”

“Felicity,” Oliver sighs. He stares up at her for a few beats, and she’s going to tell him no, she really is, but a gust of wind hits her and, oh my god, it is _freezing_ out here.

“Fine,” she says, giving in, and Oliver grins, turning back around and pulling her behind him. Felicity chances a quick glance back at the field, and Laurel’s staring at them, her arms crossed over her chest, and Felicity realizes Oliver’s still holding her hand.

It’s quiet in the parking lot, the cheers and noise from the game muted by the stadium walls, and Felicity follows Oliver as they weave through the parked cars until they get to his Porsche. He unlocks the car and then leans in, rustling around in the space behind the seats while Felicity waits behind him. As he looks, the hem of his shirt gets rucked up, exposing a thin strip of tan skin, and Felicity can’t seem to stop staring at the way the muscles shift in his back as he moves.

She’s still staring when he clears his throat, and she starts, snapping her head up to look him in the face, like she wasn't just ogling him. He’s holding his blue and white Starling Academy letterman’s jacket, and judging by the way he’s smirking at her, she apparently wasn’t quite quick enough to hide the ogling.

“Here you go,” he says. She reaches out to take the jacket, but before she gets a chance, he steps closer to her and drapes it around her shoulders, the wool and leather heavy and warm against her skin.

The jacket smells like him -- that amazing green, woodsy scent of his soap or shampoo or cologne or whatever it is -- enveloping her, and it’s way too big, the sleeves reaching past her fingertips and the hem falling all the way down to the edge of her dress. 

Oliver is watching her, and his eyes dark, his pupils blown wide, and he reaches back to gently pull her ponytail out front underneath the collar of the jacket. His fingers are hot against the sensitive skin of her neck, and she thinks she might be trembling again, but it doesn't have anything to do with the cold.

“Better?” he finally says, his voice low and soft.

Felicity nods. “Much,” she manages. Her heart is beating really fast.

When he smiles at her, it's like she can't quite catch her breath, and Felicity is in so much trouble.

*

Starling ends up winning the game, but just barely, their kicker coming through in the last couple of seconds to score a field goal and put them up by three. It’s enough though, and the few Starling fans who drove all the way up here cheer and high five and it’s actually pretty exciting. All in all, it’s been a really good night; Felicity’s glad she agreed to come. 

They wait around in the parking lot for a few minutes afterward because Oliver wants to say hi to Tommy and Laurel and some of his other friends before they head back to Starling City. 

“You just can’t stay away, can you, Queen?” a deep voice calls out, and when Felicity turns around, one of the Starling City players is headed their way. He’s changed out of his uniform and back into his practice clothes and he’s got the biggest biceps Felicity has ever seen. 

“You know me, Dig,” Oliver says, grinning. “Always ready to support my team."

The other guy -- Dig, apparently -- snorts. “Oliver Queen. Selfless to a fault."

Oliver laughs, shaking his head a little ruefully before turning to her. “Felicity, this is Dig,” he tells her. "Dig, this is Felicity."

“Ah,” Dig says, with a wry smile. “The one who’s going to save the Starling Academy football team by doing the impossible: getting Oliver Queen to go to class."

Felicity smiles. She likes Dig already. “That’s the plan." 

Dig laughs, shaking his head a little. “Well, good luck with that,” he says. "So did you enjoy the game?"

“I did,” she tells him. “Oliver was totally patient with me, which I appreciated since it was my first time.” Dig raises his eyebrows, and Felicity closes her eyes, cringing at her complete inability to string together a sentence that doesn’t sound totally inappropriate. “At a football game,” she adds quickly. “First time at a football game. Not a different kind of first time."

The corner of Dig’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. “So are you coming to the party, Felicity?"

“What party?” she asks, just as Tommy walks up. Like Dig, he's changed out of his uniform and back into his practice clothes, and his hair is sweaty, sticking up in a million different directions.

“The traditional Starling Academy victory party,” Tommy says, slinging an arm around Oliver’s shoulders. "It’s at my place, and, Felicity, if you’re not there, I’m going to call the whole thing off."

Oliver rolls his eyes and shoves Tommy off him, making a disgusted face and swiping at the patch of sweat Tommy’s hug left behind on his shirt. Tommy jumps on him again while Oliver’s distracted, and Oliver laughs, pushing him away. Beside them, Dig watches the whole exchange with detached amusement, like he’s seen them pull this same act a million times. 

“You should definitely come,” Oliver tells her, once he manages to free himself from Tommy, ducking away when Tommy lunges for him again. “Tommy’s post-game parties are legendary." 

Felicity bites her lip, unsure. She’s supposed to go over to Caitlin’s first thing tomorrow so they can get started on their AP Physics midterm project, and it's already kind of late. Plus, she’s not really a party type person, and she’s definitely not a legendary-post-football-game-victory-party type person.

“I mean, it’s not legendary in a crazy, intimidating way,” Oliver backpedals, like he knows what she’s thinking. "It's just going to be the team and some of the cheerleaders and a couple of other people, no big deal."

Tommy scoffs. “First of all, it’s one of my parties, so it is a _huge_ deal,” he corrects, ticking off the first point with his index finger, then pointing at Felicity. “And second of all, Felicity, you’re coming. End of discussion."

“I don’t know,” Felicity hedges. “I’ve got this physics project I’m supposed to work on in the morning..."

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” Tommy gasps, holding his hand to his chest in mock-horror. “We sleep in on Saturdays, we don’t do homework on Saturdays."

Oliver nods. “Yeah, Felicity,” he says. "No way you’re skipping the party to get up early to do schoolwork."

Felicity sighs, looking over at Dig for help. She might have just met him, but he seems a lot more sensible than Oliver and Tommy.

But he just shrugs. “Gonna have to go with them on this one,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest. And, wow, seriously, his arms are _huge_. “Plus, much as it pains me to admit it, Merlyn does know how to throw a party."

Felicity chews on her lip, thinking it over. It is Friday night, and she can still get up early tomorrow, and it’s just one party, right? Plus, all three of them are looking at her expectantly, so: “Fine,” she says, and Oliver and Tommy grin, victorious. Even Dig smiles.

“Felicity, you’re a goddess,” Tommy says, and she smiles before she can stop herself. He’s completely ridiculous, but she can’t help but like him. “Dig and I have to take the team bus back, but you and Ollie can head to my house, get the ball rolling."

“Get what ball rolling?” Laurel says from behind them, and Felicity turns around, taking a step away from Oliver as she does. 

“Laurel,” Oliver says, glancing at Felicity sidelong and then putting his arm around Laurel’s shoulders. “Hey."

“Hi.” Laurel smiles as she leans into him, sliding her hand across his stomach and pressing her cheek against his chest, and Felicity blinks, looking away. 

“We were just talking about the party tonight,” Tommy says easily. "You’re coming, right?"

“Of course,” she says. She sounds kind of annoyed, but then again, in Felicity’s limited experience, Laurel always sounds kind of annoyed. Felicity’s starting to think that maybe that’s just how her voice is. “I can head back with you now if you want,” she says, glancing up at Oliver with a smile. “Help you get things set up?"

Oliver clears his throat, glancing at Felicity again. “Actually, uh, Felicity’s gonna come back with me. I drove her up here, so…” 

No one says anything for a couple of seconds, and Felicity fidgets with the too-long sleeves of Oliver’s jacket, pulling them down over her fingertips. 

“Come on, Laurel,” Tommy finally says with a smile, sidling over to her and slinging his arm around her other shoulder. She rolls her eyes, but she looks like she’s trying not to smile. “You’re not going to make me ride the bus alone with all those other losers, are you?"

“No offense taken, man,” Dig says

Tommy grins, reaching out to put his hand on Dig's chest, right above his heart. “You know I love you, Dig."

Dig blinks, and then turns around without a word, walking over join the group of football players and cheerleaders getting on the bus that’s idling over on the other side of the parking lot. 

“And I know you love me too, John Diggle," Tommy calls after him.

A couple of the other players laugh, and Dig raises one hand, flicking Tommy off over his shoulder. 

Tommy smiles, turning back to them. “He loves me,” he says with a knowing nod.

Everyone else has gotten on the bus, and the football coach leans out of the folding door, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Merlyn!” he barks. “Stop flirting with Queen and get your ass on the bus!”

“Well, that’s our cue,” Tommy says easily. “We’ll see you guys at the house?"

“Definitely," Oliver agrees, punching him lightly in the arm. Tommy clutches at his arm in mock-pain, moving away from Laurel as he does. She still looks kind of mad, but Oliver gives her a quick kiss on the cheek and, before he can step back, she slides one hand around the back of his neck, standing on her tiptoes to press her mouth against his, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. 

Felicity looks away, a tight knot of anxiety starting to form in her throat, which is completely ridiculous she knows, but she can't seem to help it.

Finally, Tommy clears his throat. “I think they’re going to leave without us, Laurel.”

Reluctantly, Laurel pulls away, keeping her hand cupped against the back of Oliver’s neck. “Thanks for coming to the game,” she says. Oliver smiles, gazing down at her, and Felicity swallows hard.

Laurel and Tommy head over to the waiting bus, and Felicity follows Oliver back to his car, shrugging out of his jacket as she goes. It’ll be warmer in the car, and it’s starting to feel kind of heavy on her shoulders, and it’s fine, really.

When Oliver opens the door for her, Felicity hands his jacket back to him, careful to keep her fingers from brushing up against his. She thinks maybe it’s time to reign in the butterflies. 

He looks down at the jacket, then back up at her, his forehead crinkled up in confusion. He’s still got a smear of lipstick on the corner of his mouth, and Felicity shifts her gaze away, looking out across the empty parking lot. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“I'm fine.” She presses the jacket into his hands and turns to get in the car. He takes it reluctantly, holding the door open for her, and she knows she’s being ridiculous, that Oliver’s been great tonight and she did have a lot of fun. She’s just tired is all; it’s been a long day. She thinks about telling Oliver that he should just drive her home, that she's just going to skip the party tonight, but then he reaches out, his fingertips brushing against her bare shoulder, and just like that, she knows she's not going to ask him to bring her home early. 

"Hey." Oliver's still touching her, the pad of his thumb brushing against her collarbone, and Felicity's breath hitches in her chest as she turns back around to face him. "I forgot to say it earlier, but thanks for coming up here with me tonight. I had a really good time."

“Me too,” she says sincerely, and he smiles, his whole face lighting up. And despite all of Felicity's best efforts, despite telling herself that it doesn't mean anything, her stomach flips and her heart races and those damn butterflies just start fluttering away.


	6. Chapter 6

Felicity is learning all kinds of interesting things tonight, like the best way for a quarterback to beat the blitz and the fact that some of the kids from school apparently live in castles.

Tommy's house is dark and silent when they arrive, and Oliver uses his keys to unlock the massive front doors, flicking on the lights to reveal a huge foyer, the white marble floor leading to a grand, sweeping staircase. Honestly, it's pretty impressive.

Felicity follows him through the house, trying not to gawk too much at the grandeur of the place. It’s very beautiful, but strangely cold, like it’s not actually lived in, and all the pictures on the walls look like they’re at least ten years old, Tommy no older than seven or eight in all of them.

“Where are Tommy’s parents?” Felicity asks as she follows Oliver into a kitchen that’s approximately the size of a Felicity’s entire house.

“Tommy’s mom died when we were kids,” Oliver tells her, reaching down and opening one of the cabinets on the huge island in the center of the room. “It kind of messed his dad up, and he spends a lot of time overseas.”

“So Tommy’s here all alone?” she asks. The idea of Tommy wandering around this giant, empty house all by himself is incredibly depressing.

Oliver shrugs. “The staff is here most of the day, and Tommy spends a lot of time at my house.”

“Still,” Felicity says, and the kitchen is so big that her voice actually echoes. “That’s kind of sad, don’t you think?”

“He seems okay with it most of the time.” Oliver starts pulling bottles of liquor out of the cabinet and lining them up on the bar. There are a lot of bottles, way more than are necessary for a no-big-deal party with a couple of people. “Hey, you wanna grab some cups out of the pantry?”

Felicity nods, heading over to the pantry, which is literally the size of her bedroom. It takes her a few minutes, but she finally finds a couple of packages of red Solo cups on the very top shelf.

“Did you find them?” Oliver calls.

“Yep,” she calls back, standing on her tiptoes and stretching for the cups, which are just barely out of reach. She’s just managed to snag the edge of one of the plastic sleeves when she feels Oliver come up behind her. He settles his hand lightly against her hip and then reaches up, his hand sliding against her arm, his fingers resting against hers as he pulls the cups down just far enough so she can reach them. His chest is pressed against her back, warm and solid, and, honestly, Felicity’s not sure how much of this she can take.

They just stand there like that for what feels like a very long time even though Felicity knows it can’t be more than a couple of seconds. She can feel his heartbeat against her back.

“Thanks,” she finally says, turning around to face him, dragging the cups with her, the plastic sleeve bumping dully against her side. Her hips are pressed against his, and the room feels a lot smaller than it did just a minute ago.

“No problem,” he murmurs, looking down at her.

His eyes are dark, just a thin ring of blue around the black, and he’s still got one hand resting lightly on her hip, and it’s suddenly like there’s not enough air in the room. Her gaze flicks down to his mouth, and his lips look very soft, and the only thing that stops Felicity from doing something she’ll probably regret is the faraway sound of a door opening.

“Oliver?” Tommy calls. “Felicity? You guys here?”

Oliver clears his throat, stepping away from her, back into the kitchen. “Yeah,” he calls back, and his voice comes out sort of rough. “We’re in here.”

Felicity follows him, the cups still clutched in her hand, just as Tommy and Dig come into the kitchen. They're hauling a metal keg between them, and there’s a kid in a red hoodie behind them, carrying a giant plastic bucket and a couple of bags of ice.

While the guys set up the keg, Felicity busies herself stacking the cups on the counter. More and more people are starting to trickle in, the house filling with the hum of conversation, and this definitely seems like it’s going to end up being more than a couple of football players and some cheerleaders.

Felicity is more than a little out of her element, and she watches the increasing buzz of activity around her with thinly veiled fascination, the line for the keg starting to stretch out into the hallway.

“Hey,” Oliver says, and Felicity blinks, looking over at him. He’s watching her with this little half smile, and he’s holding a red plastic cup in one hand. “You want a beer?”

“Um,” Felicity says, not really sure how embarrassing it would be to admit that she’s not sure if she wants a beer because she’s never had one before. “Maybe?”

Oliver’s smile widens and he takes a drink before handing her the cup. “Here. Let me know what you think.” Their fingers brush, and he does that looking at her mouth thing again, the one that makes her stomach flip.

She takes a tentative sip of the beer, grimacing when she tastes it, bitter and sour and watery. “Yeah, no,” she says, shaking her head and handing him back the cup. “I think I’m good.”

“I can make you something else,” Oliver offers, leading her back over to the line of bottles on the counter. “What do you like?”

“I don’t know, actually,” she admits, bracing her elbows on the counter and studying the bottles. “I’m not...I don’t have a lot of experience with the whole drinking thing.”

“Hmm.” Oliver grabs an empty cup and starts mixing stuff together. He looks like he knows what he’s doing, but he’s definitely seems to be a taking a more-is-better approach. Finally, he swirls the cup a few times and then presents it to her with a flourish.

The liquid in the cup is blackish-red and it smells not great, like licorice and cough syrup, but Felicity’s an optimist. Maybe it will taste better than it smells. She takes a tentative sip and, ugh, it’s even worse than she thought it would be, thick and cloying, the alcohol making her throat burn and her eyes water.

“Good?” Oliver asks, looking hopeful.

“Uh, it’s...strong,” Felicity says diplomatically, pressing her palm against her chest and trying really hard not to cough.

Oliver huffs out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck and looking sheepish. “Sorry about that. I can try to make you something else if you want?”

“That’s okay.” Felicity takes another sip of her drink, which is a mistake. Oh god, it’s so terrible, and she can’t stop herself from wincing. “This is fine.”

Oliver rolls his eyes, reaching for her drink, but she pulls it away, out of his grasp. He smiles, reaching for her cup again, and when she dodges him, laughing, he slips one arm around her waist, pulling her body flush against his, before she manages to duck away.

He’s making another pass at her drink, one hand resting lightly on her hip and the other wrapped loosely around her wrist when: “The Lovely Lance sisters have arrived,” Tommy announces in a too-loud voice from the other side of the room.

When Felicity looks over, Laurel’s standing next to Tommy along with another girl that she recognizes as Laurel’s sister, Sara. Felicity’s pretty sure Sara is a junior, too, but they don’t exactly move in the same circles, so she’s not completely sure. 

When Oliver sees them, he smiles easily even as he takes a step back, putting some space between him and Felicity.

“Hi,” he says to Laurel, smiling and putting an arm around her shoulders. When he leans down to kiss her, Felicity looks away, taking another sip of her terrible drink.

“Hey, Ollie,” Sara says. She doesn’t look much like Laurel, with her bright blue eyes and easy smile.

“Hey, Sara.” Oliver smiles, reaching out and putting his other arm around her easily. “Where’s Nyssa?”

Sara’s smile falters. “She couldn’t make it.”

Oliver frowns, and opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but Laurel cuts him off.

“Can I talk to you outside, please,” she says, but it’s clearly not actually a question because she’s already walking away, not waiting for him to answer. Oliver gives Sara a quick squeeze and shoots Felicity an apologetic glance, before picking up his drink and following Laurel out of the kitchen.

“So,” Sara says, turning to Felicity once Oliver and Laurel are out of earshot. “You must be Oliver’s Felicity.”

“What?” Felicity says. “No. I’m not Oliver’s Felicity. I’m not anyone’s Felicity. I’m my Felicity. I mean, I’m just...Felicity.”

Sara laughs. “You’re cute.”

Felicity doesn’t know how to respond to that, so she just takes another sip of her drink, not able to stop herself from wincing when the burn of the alcohol hits her throat.

“What are you drinking?” Sara asks. She looks like she's trying not to smile.

Felicity tilts her cup so that Sara can see the dark liquid inside. “I’m not sure, actually. Oliver made it for me. It’s...interesting.”

Sara glances down and grimaces, taking the cup out of Felicity’s hands and setting it down on the counter. “Never let Ollie make you a drink,” she tells her. “Or Tommy for that matter. When it comes to alcohol, they go for quantity over quality. Honestly, they have no idea what they’re doing.”

“Neither do I,” Felicity admits.

Sara grins. She heads back over to the counter and grabs another cup and starts mixing things together, albeit in a way that looks a lot less random than when Oliver was doing it. “Here,” she says, handing Felicity the cup.

The liquid inside is clear and it smells citrusy, and Felicity braces herself and takes a sip, but it’s surprisingly good. “Wow. This is really good.”

“Thanks.” Sarah smiles, watching as Felicity takes another long sip. “Just, don’t drink it too fast. It’s not quite on the same level as that abomination Ollie made for you, but it’s not fruit punch either.”

“Right,” Felicity agrees, setting the cup down on the counter. “So, I guess it’s pretty obvious that I’m a novice to this whole party thing, huh?”

“You’re doing fine,” Sara assures her kindly. It's probably a lie, but Felicity appreciates it anyway.

*

Tommy wasn’t kidding about his parties being a big deal, and before too long, his big, empty house packed with people. Felicity spends most of the night hanging out with Dig and Sara and Tommy, somehow getting pulled into what is apparently an ongoing tournament of drinking games, every game starting with a running tally of points and an incredibly complicated system of rules.

It’s a little out of Felicity’s wheelhouse, but it turns out to be actually kind of fun. And, okay, that might have something to do with the drinking part of the whole drinking game thing, since bouncing a quarter into a mug wouldn’t normally be her idea of a good time. Besides, it totally helps distract her from spending the whole night wondering if she’s going to get to spend any more time with Oliver. She sees him a couple of times through the crowd, always with Laurel beside him, the two of them holding hands or laughing or basically just being together in this way that makes Felicity’s chest hurt whenever she sees them.

After a while she stops looking for him altogether, focusing instead on bouncing quarters and flipping cups and tossing ping pong balls into beer. Plus, Sara turns out to be really nice, which maybe shouldn’t surprise Felicity as much as it does, but she is Laurel’s sister, so. It’s not like you can blame her for being a little wary. But Sara’s totally great, sweet and friendly and not at all annoyed that Felicity is probably the worst beer pong partner in the world.

So, really, it's good, it's fine, it's fun, even if she barely sees Oliver at all. 

She’s got no idea how much she drinks, but after a while she really, really has to pee. When she asks Tommy where the bathroom is, he tells her she can use the one in his bedroom upstairs, something she’s obscenely grateful for once she sees the line for the ones downstairs.

It takes her a while to push through the crush of people downstairs and then to actually find Tommy’s room once she's upstairs, but she does eventually. It’s a lot quieter up here, which is nice, because Felicity’s head feels sort of fuzzy, like everything is kind of hazy and far away.

When she steps out of the bathroom and into Tommy’s bedroom, Oliver’s there, sitting on the edge of Tommy’s bed. He’s alone, and Felicity resists asking him where Laurel is.

“Hi,” she says, surprised, bracing her arm against the doorjamb to steady herself. Not that she’s having trouble standing or anything, it’s just the floor feels like it’s tilting slightly. 

“Hey.” Oliver smiles at her, all blue eyes and easy charm. His voice is a little slurred there’s an empty cup on the floor next to his feet. “Tommy said you came up here, and I just...I wanted to check on you, make sure you’re doing okay, that you’re having fun.”

She sits next to him on the bed, closer than she means to, her body pressed against his from their shoulders to their knees. “Definitely,” Felicity tells him, bumping her shoulder against his. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” He bumps her back, but doesn’t move away, leaning against her, his body warm and loose-limbed.

Neither one of them says anything for a couple of seconds and then Oliver takes a deep breath, turning to look at her. He has the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. “I like you, Felicity,” he tells her, and her heart feels like it actually skips a beat.

“Oh,” she says. “Um. I like you too, Oliver.”

He smiles, and Felicity’s stomach flips. It’s really not fair, how great his smile is. He’s still leaning against her side, and Felicity’s skin feels like it’s buzzing, like there’s electricity humming through her veins.

“You know those butterflies you were talking about?” Oliver asks, ducking his head to talk to her in a low voice, like he’s telling her a secret. “The ones that mean you just _know_?”

Felicity just nods, dazed. 

“I feel those when I’m with you,” Oliver tells her. Her heart is hammering in her chest, pounding so loudly that it’s a wonder Oliver can’t hear it. “It’s like there’s a whole hive or colony or…" Oliver pauses, tilting his head, his eyebrows drawn together. "What’s a bunch of butterflies called?”

“A kaleidoscope,” Felicity says, her brain automatically supplying her with the word, some random piece of trivia that she didn’t even know that she knew.

“Really?”

Felicity nods, and her heart is just racing away in her chest. “Really.”

“Okay, then,” Oliver agrees. “It’s like there’s a whole _kaleidoscope_ of butterflies setting up shop in my stomach.” 

“Oh,” Felicity breathes, and then Oliver’s reaching for her hand, sliding it against his stomach. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, his stomach is warm and hard, and there’s a hot, desperate feeling pooling deep in her belly.

“Can you feel them?” he asks, his voice low and rough. Everything feels sort of hazy and unreal, and there’s just…there’s no way this is actually happening, right?

But then Oliver leans towards her, his eyes flicking down to her mouth, and it suddenly feels very, very real, everything snapping into focus. Felicity flexes her fingers against his stomach, swallowing hard. She leans into him, his breath warm against her lips, and everything feels like it’s moving too fast and too slow all at once.

And then: “Ollie?” Laurel calls from somewhere behind them, and Felicity jerks away and Laurel’s there, standing in the doorway, looking at the two of them sitting together on Tommy’s bed, both of them breathing fast, neither of them meeting her gaze.

“Ollie?” she says again.

Oliver swallows hard, but doesn’t respond, and the silence stretches heavily between them.

“What’s going on?” Laurel demands. Her voice wavers slightly, and Felicity feels like a completely terrible person. Her hand still warm from where it was pressed against Oliver’s stomach.

“Hey, Laurel,” Oliver finally says, looking up at her and smiling his easy, charming Oliver Queen smile, the one Felicity recognizes from that first day she met him, when he asked her if he could borrow her chemistry homework. She feels sick to her stomach. “I was just about to come find you.”

She scoffs. “You’re unbelievable,” she tells him, turning on her heel and stalking away.

Oliver starts to follow her and then stops, casting a helpless glance back at Felicity. “I’ll be right back,” he tells her, sounding desperate. “Don’t leave, okay?”

Felicity just nods dully, feeling frozen, her body rigid as she sits on the edge of Tommy’s bed, listening as Oliver goes after Laurel, calling her name as he follows her down the hall.

Felicity sits there for a couple of minutes before she gets up and goes back into the bathroom. She closes the door behind her and then just stands there for a couple of minutes, staring at herself in the mirror and trying to get her bearings. She takes a deep breath and splashes some cool water on her face, blinking back the tears that are threatening to fall. When she finally opens the door, Tommy’s bedroom is empty. That shouldn't surprise her, but it does somehow, disappointment flooding through her.

She walks out into the hallway, and Dig’s there, leaning against the wall right outside of Tommy’s room, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks like someone’s bodyguard.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Felicity nods, pinching the bridge of her nose and rubbing her eyes under her glasses. “Just tired.”

“You need a ride home?”

“Probably,” Felicity admits, because Oliver’s definitely too drunk to drive her, and he’s with Laurel anyway, and Felicity has absolutely no idea what she’s doing.

Dig gives her a soft smile. “Come on.”

*

“So where am I taking you, Felicity?” Dig asks once they're in his car, driving away from Tommy's house.

“The Glades,” Felicity tells him apologetically. “I probably should have told you that before I accepted the ride. I can still call a cab if it’s too out of the way.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”

Felicity still feels a little sick, and after she gives Dig her address, she leans against the passenger door, her eyes closed and her head pressed against the cool glass of the window, concentrating on not throwing up.

“Hey,” Dig says, and she opens her eyes, glancing over at him. They’re only a few blocks from her house, and Felicity wants nothing more than to collapse on her bed and sleep for the next two days. “Did you ever read that book, _The Great Gatsby_?”

“Um,” Felicity says, thrown by the question. “Yeah, actually, we just finished it last week in AP Lit. It’s going to be on the midterm on Thursday.”

Dig nods. “There’s this line in it about that rich couple.”

“Tom and Daisy,” Felicity supplies.

“Right,” Dig says. “Tom and Daisy. Anyway, this line, it's about how they’re the type of people who smash things up and then just run away, back into their money and carelessness or something like that.”

“Okay,” she agrees, remembering the line, even though she’s not sure where he’s going with this. Although, in her defense, her thoughts are pretty fuzzy right now.

“I think that’s how he is sometimes, too. Oliver.” Dig shrugs one shoulder and glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “He doesn’t mean anything by it, but when things go bad, it’s everything around him that gets smashed up. And he just walks away, not a scratch on him.”

They’ve pulled up in front of her house; the curtains are drawn and the lights off, which Felicity’s absurdly grateful for. She doesn’t think she can deal with her mother right now. 

“I just…be careful, Felicity,” he tells her gently, and somehow, it doesn’t seem as patronizing as it should. “Oliver’s a good guy, but he’s a careless person.”

Felicity swallows hard, staring out the windshield, the hot prickle of tears starting to burn behind her eyes. “Thanks for the ride, Dig," she says. 

Dig gives her a soft smile. “Goodnight, Felicity.”

On impulse, she leans over and presses a chaste kiss against his cheek before getting out of the car. She walks carefully up the driveway to her house, concentrating on not stumbling, trying not to think about the way Oliver smiled at her tonight, the feel of his jacket on her shoulders, the look on Laurel’s face when she saw them sitting together on Tommy’s bed, trying not to think about anything all.

Somehow, she manages to make it inside before she starts to cry.


	7. Chapter 7

Oliver follows Laurel downstairs, pushing through the crowd after her, until they end up in Tommy’s father’s bedroom at the very back of the house, which is the first empty room they come across. 

She’s angry, of course, telling him everything he’s done wrong recently, all the ways he’s ignored her or treated her badly or just been a generally horrible boyfriend. 

Oliver apologizes, like he always does. Laurel says it’s not enough, like she always does. But then he just doesn’t have the energy for the next part, the part where he begs her to give him another chance.

So when she says, “I think we should take a break,” Oliver doesn’t disagree with her.

“Okay,” he says instead, and her face falls. He knows she’s expecting him to argue, to beg her not to break up with him, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He likes Laurel, he does, and he really cares about her, but it’s getting more and more exhausting to be around her, and being with her feels like a lot of work.

“So that’s it?” she demands.

“Laurel,” he sighs. He’s just really tired of everything always being so difficult.

She looks at him expectantly, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Fine,” she snaps, and Oliver has no idea what that means, if she’s breaking up with him or not, if this is a permanent break or just temporary. 

He knows he should ask her, but he doesn’t want to drag this out anymore. Felicity’s probably still upstairs waiting for him, and he needs to talk to her too, needs to explain everything. So when Laurel turns on her heel and walks away, Oliver doesn’t try to stop her, just lets her go.

When Oliver gets back up to Tommy’s room, taking the stairs two at a time, Felicity’s gone. He’s not sure why he expected any different, but he's sure what to do next. He ends up going downstairs, looking for her there. He doesn’t find her, but when he gets to the kitchen, Tommy and Sara and Roy are there, playing quarters at the breakfast table in the corner.

There’s not a line for the keg anymore, the party starting to die down some, and Oliver grabs another cup, filling up his beer as he watches Roy flick a quarter into a shot glass and then nod at Tommy to take a drink.

“Hey," Oliver says, wandering over to them, trying to sound casual. “Have you guys seen Felicity?

Tommy picks up the quarter and lines up his shot, squinting as he holds the coin between his thumb and forefinger. “Dig brought her home."

“What?” Oliver demands. "When?"

"A while ago." Tommy flicks the quarter, which bounces off the table and lands square in the shot glass. He raises his arms in victory and then points at Sara. “Drink up, little Lance.”

Sara rolls her eyes and takes a long swallow of her drink. "Where’s Laurel?" she asks, glancing up at Oliver.

Oliver clears his throat. "We kind of had a fight. And then she left."

Tommy snorts and shakes his head, and Sara rolls her eyes. Even Roy smirks. Punk.

"Guess that means I’ll need to find another ride home," Sara says dryly.

 _Shit._ Oliver didn’t even think about that. "Sorry, Sara."

She shrugs and takes her turn at the game, tossing the quarter a little too hard. It bounces off the lip of the glass and spins onto the table, so Sara takes another long drink and slides the coin over to Roy.

“You wanna play?” Roy asks, glancing at Oliver as he hovers near the table, holding the quarter out to him.

“Nah.” Oliver shakes his head, and pulls out his phone, checking to see if maybe Felicity’s called or texted. His screen is blank, and he takes a long drink of his beer, draining the cup and heading back over to the keg for a refill.

“You okay, man?” Tommy asks.

Oliver nods, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah. I just...I think I need some air.”

There aren’t many people out by the pool, and Oliver makes his way over to the far end of the deck, out where it’s completely empty, dropping down into one of the big deck chairs, adjusting it so he’s practically lying down. 

The ground feels like it’s tilting beneath him and his head is spinning slightly, so he plants one foot flat on the ground to steady himself and then pulls his phone out of his pocket.

He calls Felicity, but it rings and rings and rings until it finally goes voicemail. He thinks about leaving her a message, but it would probably be an embarrassing, drunken ramble, so he hangs up and texts her instead. 

There’s a lot he wants to say, but he’s having trouble getting his thoughts lined up coherently and his fingers feel clumsy on the screen, so he just goes with: _Are you ok?_

He waits, sipping his beer and staring at his phone, which remains frustratingly silent. After a while, he gives up and calls her again, but this time the phone goes straight to voicemail, not even ringing first, which is definitely not a good sign. He listens to the recording of her saying she can’t answer the phone, to leave a message, so he does, which is probably a mistake, but it’s not like he’s in short supply of those tonight, so what the hell. What’s one more added to the mix.

“Felicity. It’s me. Oliver, I mean. Which you probably figured out. Um. I’m still at Tommy’s party, but you’re not, and, uh, Tommy said Dig brought you home? And I’m sorry about…about everything, I guess, but I really need to talk to you, and, just, please call me back, Felicity. Please.”

He hangs up and doesn’t feel any better at all, especially when his phone stubbornly remains silent. After a couple of minutes, he texts Dig, checking to make sure Felicity got home okay.

When his phone finally buzzes, his heart does a little flip, but it’s just Dig texting him back. 

_Felicity got home fine._ Then: _You might want to be careful there, man,_ he adds, which is basically Dig-speak for “stop being such an asshole."

Oliver exhales heavily, scrubbing his hands across his face. God, he can’t believe he actually told Felicity he liked her. So much for playing it cool. And why did Laurel have to pick that exact moment to walk in? It’s like the universe is conspiring against him to make his life as complicated as possible. 

He’s still staring at the blank screen of his phone when Sara walks up, two red plastic cups held loosely in her hands.

“Thought you might need a refill,” she says, holding one of the cups out to him.

Oliver smiles at her gratefully, accepting the drink. Sara’s swaying slightly and her eyes are glassy, and he realizes he hasn’t really had a chance to talk to her all night. “So where’s Nyssa?” he asks, remembering how she dodged the question earlier.

“Grounded,” Sara says glumly, sitting down on the edge of the chair next to his hip. “Possibly for the rest of her life.”

“What happened?”

“Her dad kind of walked in on us and completely freaked out.”

Oliver winces in sympathy.

“We weren’t even really doing anything,” she tells him. “He’s just being a controlling asshole. And Nyssa’s going with it, keeps talking about how he’s her father so she has to respect him. It sucks.”

Oliver makes a sympathetic noise and moves over on the chair so there’s enough room for her to lie down too. She rests her head on his chest and slides one arm around his waist, her body warm against him. They stay like that for a while, both of them nursing their drinks in silence.

“So what happened with Laurel?” she finally asks. 

Oliver shrugs, which is probably a mistake, the movement making him dizzy. He can’t remember how much he’s had to drink, but it’s definitely a lot. “Nothing.”

“Hmm,” Sara hums thoughtfully. “And does this ‘nothing’ have anything to do with Felicity?”

Oliver exhales heavily, and takes a long drink of his beer, draining half of it in one go. He just wants to forget about everything that happened over the last few hours, but he also can’t stop thinking about Felicity, the look on her face when he went after Laurel, the feel of her hand against his stomach. “I just…I really like her.”

Sara nods, her cheek sliding against his chest. “So are you and Laurel broken up now?”

Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know.”

“Do you _want_ to be broken up?”

“I think so,” he admits, and Sara makes a surprised noise, looking up at him. “I care about Laurel, I do. But with Felicity…” He sighs, tipping his head back against the chair. “I can’t explain it. Not that it matters since she probably hates me.”

“I doubt she hates you,” Sara tells him, resting her chin against his chest, one corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile. “She spent the entire night looking for you, you know.”

“Seriously?” Oliver can’t stop himself from smiling, a warm feeling of happiness spreading through his body. “She was looking for me? Did she say anything about me?”

Sara rolls her eyes. “You’re such a jerk, Ollie,” she says affectionately, slapping him playfully on the chest. 

“Hey!” he gasps in mock-pain, reaching up and trapping her hand against his chest.

She laughs, her breath is warm against his neck and her lips brush against his skin. She shifts on top of him, and he has no idea who kisses who first, but her body is pressed against his and she tastes like gin and cranberry juice, and it’s nice, it feels good. A small, still rational part of his brain realizes this is a huge mistake, but they’ve both had way too much to drink, and it’s not like they haven’t hooked up before, and it’s just been a really crappy night.

On the other side of the deck, someone yells something, and then there’s a shriek of laughter, and Sara pushes back, sitting up and breaking the kiss. Oliver’s head feels like it’s spinning. That last beer probably wasn’t such a great idea.

“What are we doing?” she mumbles, looking away and tucking her hair behind her ears. She sounds really sad.

Oliver sighs. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Sara lets her head fall back down on his chest with a small sigh. “I better go see if I can find a ride home.”

“You should stay here tonight,” Oliver tells her. “Tommy’s got a million guest rooms.”

“Oh, I’m sure my father would love that,” she says, and Oliver laughs, imagining the look on Mr. Lance’s when he finds out that Sara spent the night at Tommy’s. Sara sighs and pushes herself up from the chair, wobbling slightly as she does. Oliver reaches out and takes her hand, steadying her.

“Hey,” he says, and she glances down at him. She looks very tired. “Things with Nyssa are going to work out.”

Sara smiles at him sadly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. “Thanks, Ollie.”

*

The next thing Oliver knows, the sun’s up and glaringly bright, and he feels like his head is going to explode, a feeling that only intensifies when Tommy yells his name way too loud.

“Urgh,” Oliver groans, rolling onto his side to duck away from the sun. His stomach turns and his mouth feels like its full of sandpaper and he swallows hard, willing himself not to throw up. “What?”

“Rise and shine, Ollie,” Tommy says, and his voice sounds weird, a hard edge to it. 

He’s in the process of sitting up when Tommy tosses his phone at him. It bounces off Oliver’s chest and into his lap, and he picks it up, squinting down at the screen. There’s a picture on Tommy’s phone, two people lying together in a deck chair, faces pressed together, and oh no, oh _fuck._ “What is this?”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like a picture of you making out with your girlfriend’s sister.” Tommy sounds legitimately pissed, and when Oliver looks up at him, he’s glaring at him, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Where the hell did you get it?”

“Well, let’s see,” Tommy says, tapping his finger against his chin in mock-contemplation. "It’s on Instagram. And Facebook. And Twitter. And I have received approximately 7,000 snapchats of it in past twenty minutes.”

“Ugh.” Oliver presses the heels of his palms against his eyes. He feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Listen, man, I get it, you and Laurel had a fight," Tommy says in this voice like he doesn’t get it at all. "But Sara? Come on, Ollie. Do you have any idea what this is going to do to Laurel? It’s bad enough, whatever’s going on between you and Felicity, but hooking up with her sister?"

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Tommy,” Oliver snaps, his tone sharper than he means for it to be. It’s just, what the hell does Tommy know about any of this? Laurel basically broke up with him last night, and he and Sara were both totally wasted, and Tommy doesn’t know anything at all about Felicity. Hell, he’s barely even met her. 

Tommy sighs, shaking his head and turning back towards the house. “You should probably head home,” he calls over his shoulder. “The staff needs to start cleaning up out here.”

*

By the time Oliver gets to his house, he feels like he’s going to die. He had to pull over twice on the drive home so he could throw up on the side of the road and his head is pounding so badly he can barely see straight.

So when he gets home, he heads straight to the kitchen, determined to drink six gallons of water and then sleep for the rest of the weekend. With any luck, no one else is home, and he’ll be able to get to his room without actually having to interact with anyone. But, because Oliver’s morning hasn’t been crappy enough, Thea and his mother are sitting in the breakfast nook when he walks into the kitchen, both of them looking over at him as he pours himself a glass of water and gulps down the whole thing.

He’s refilling his glass when Thea says, “Word on the street is that you had a pretty good time last night." 

“What?” His stomach turns and he thinks he might throw up again.

Thea shrugs one shoulder, smirking at him over her cereal bowl. "You and Sara Lance.” 

"How do you know about that?” Oliver demands. 

“Instagram," she says around a mouthful of cereal.

"Thea, don’t talk with your mouth full," their mother admonishes. "Oliver, what is she talking about?"

"Someone posted a picture of Ollie online last night," Thea says before Oliver has a chance to answer. He glares at her and she smiles sweetly at him. 

His mother glances from Thea then back to him, looking concerned. 

"It wasn’t what it looked like," Oliver assures her. 

"And what did it look like?" his mother says.

"Like Ollie was groping Laurel’s sister on a deck chair at Tommy’s party last night," Thea tells her, sounding delighted by this turn of events. 

“That’s enough, Thea," his mother warns before turning to him. "Oliver?" 

"It’s just a misunderstanding," he tells her, which is basically the truth.

Thea snorts and takes another bite of cereal. "I’ll bet,” she mumbles. Oliver glares at her, and she looks back at him with an innocent expression.

He's in the hallway outside his room when his phone buzzes, and he winces when he sees Sara's name on the screen. He doesn’t answer until he’s inside, the door closed firmly behind him. He has no idea when Thea got so gossip-hungry, but he’d like to avoid her listening in on the disaster that is his life right now.

“Hey, Sara,” Oliver says, dropping down heavily onto his bed and setting his water on the nightstand. The curtains to his room are closed, and the room is gloriously dark. 

“So,” she says by way of greeting. Her voice sounds rough and scratchy, like she’s been crying, and, god, he is such an asshole. “We fucked up, huh?"

Oliver groans, kicking off his shoes and covering his eyes with one hand. “I’m so sorry, Sara. I don’t know what happened or who took the picture, but when I find out, I will hunt them down and kill them.” He takes a deep breath and then asks, "How’s Laurel?"

“Furious,” Sara tells him. “I’ve tried to talk to her, but she won’t even _look_ at me, Ollie."

"Shit. Sara…” Oliver trails off as he realizes that she’s having to deal with this right now, that she can’t just hide away in her room and hope it all blows over. “Do you want me to come over and talk to her?"

Sara huffs out a laugh. “That’s probably not a good idea,” she says. “Laurel’s angry, but my dad saw the picture, too. Said something about emptying his service weapon into you if he saw your smug rich kid face anywhere near me or Laurel."

Fuuuuuck. Oliver buries his head in his hands. 

“Have you talked to Felicity?” Sara asks.

“No,” Oliver tells her, dragging his hands down his face. The thought of Felicity seeing the picture makes him feel sick to his stomach, even worse than knowing Laurel’s seen it. “Have you heard from Nyssa?"

“No," Sara says, her voice hitching slightly. "But that might just be because of the whole being grounded thing, right?"

“Definitely," Oliver agrees immediately. “Nyssa’s great, and she’s totally in love with you, and this is all a misunderstanding. She’ll get that."

“Yeah,” Sara agrees, but it doesn’t sound like she believes him. “I hope so." 

*

Oliver spends the morning in bed, drinking water and knocking back aspirin and trying not to obsessively check his phone. He mostly fails at that last part, at least until he finally falls asleep around noon. When he wakes up a couple of hours later, he’s feeling slightly, at least until he remembers what a mess his life is right now.

When he looks at his phone, he only has one text and it's from Laurel. He closes his eyes again, taking a deep breath before he reads the message. 

_It’s over._

Oliver stares at the words for a couple of minutes, trying to decide how he feels. He should probably be upset or maybe even angry at the fact that she’s breaking up with him over text message, but what he actually feels is relief. He’s realizes this makes him a total coward, but every time he thinks about having to go over there and face her, he knows he can’t do it. Plus, he’s like ninety-nine percent sure that Sara wasn’t joking about her father wanting to shoot him, so Oliver’s going to play it safe and talk to Laurel at school on Monday. She might cause a scene, but at least he won’t get murdered by her father.

He thinks for a while about what to send in response, not sure what he should say. Finally, he decides on: _I’m sorry._

Laurel texts back almost immediately. _Fuck you, Ollie._

And, yeah, that about covers it. He tosses his phone back onto his nightstand before rolling over and pulling his pillow over his head. What a fucking disaster.

*

By Sunday, he still hasn’t heard from Felicity and he’s starting to feel a little desperate.

Since Friday night, he’s called her at least a dozen times, has left her five voicemails, and has texted her more times that he can count. He even sent her an email, hunting down her address through the Starling Academy directory and spending two hours composing a message that essentially just asked her to please call him. But she hasn’t responded to any of it. 

To be honest, he has no idea what to do. He’s never had to put in this much work before, definitely not for a girl. He’s not even sure why he’s doing it now, except that he can’t stop thinking about how her hand felt pressed against his stomach, and the look on her face when he left Tommy’s bedroom, how she didn’t say anything, just sat there and watched him go.

At least things seem to be going better for Sara. She texted him on Saturday night to tell him that she talked to Nyssa and they’re working things out. And that’s good, that’s a huge relief, but Oliver would feel a lot better if he could talk to Felicity. Even if it was only so she could tell him that she hates him and wants him to leave her alone. But this silence is brutal. 

They’ve got a lab report due tomorrow, and of course Oliver doesn’t have any idea how to complete it on his own. The plan was for Felicity to help him with it today, but that seems pretty unlikely at this point. He tries to do it himself, he really does, but he doesn’t even know what some of the questions mean. Normally, he’d just not do it, but he thinks he’s probably given Felicity enough reasons to be disappointed in him without adding this to the list.

He has too many questions to ask in a text, so he calls her instead. He’s not surprised when it rings through to voicemail, and he listens to her outgoing message for what feels like the millionth time. He’s got it memorized by now, and he mouths it along with her as he waits for the beep. 

“Hey, Felicity. It’s Oliver. Again. So, uh, I’m trying to finish up this lab report for chemistry tomorrow, but I don’t actually know what I’m doing. And before you ask, yes, I’ve looked at the the textbook and the sample lab report Ms. Lewis gave us, and I still have no idea what I’m doing. I know you’re probably mad at me and don’t want to talk to me, let alone help me, but I’m really stuck here, so if you could call me back, that would be really great. Please."

He hangs up the phones and then leans his forehead against his desk, sighing in frustration. The phone buzzes a couple of seconds later, and when he looks at the screen and sees Felicity's name, his heart skips in his chest.

_What parts do you need help with?_

Oliver fumbles for his lab report, dutifully typing in the names of the sections he can’t figure out into his phone: _Hypothesis, procedures, data & analysis, conclusions._

_So...every part?_

Oliver grins. He’s never been so excited about doing homework in his life.

*

Oliver gets to chemistry the next morning twenty minutes before the period starts, hoping to catch Felicity before class. She spent almost two hours walking him through his lab report last night over text message, and even if they stay carefully away from talking about anything other than schoolwork, at least she’s talking to him. But she doesn’t show up until right after the first bell, ducking into her seat a split second before Ms. Lewis announces a pop quiz.

Damn it. He takes out a pencil and some paper, but he can’t concentrate on anything other than Felicity. He can smell her shampoo, something bright and lemony, and every time she leans down to write an answer, her ponytail falls over her shoulder, exposing the pale slope of her neck. And then, when she sits back up, her hair swings back and the ends of her ponytail brush the edge of Oliver’s desk. It’s incredibly distracting, and he keeps missing everything Ms. Lewis says.

After he asks her to repeat the fifth question in a row, Felicity finally turns around, giving him a confused look. Her eyes are bright behind her glasses and she’s wearing these dangly silver earrings and she just looks really pretty today. Oliver smiles at her, but she blinks and turns away, and Oliver’s stomach drops.

He doesn’t get a chance to talk to her for the rest of the period, and then when Ms. Lewis asks them to turn in their lab reports at the end of class, Felicity’s out of her seat and moving to the front of the class immediately, lab report in hand. Oliver curses under his breath, rustling through his backpack until he finds his report buried at the very bottom, crumpled up under his calculus book. By the time he fishes it out, Felicity’s already gone.

Second period sucks even more than he thought it would. Laurel won’t even look at him, but it’s obvious she’s been crying, her eyes puffy and red. He wishes she’d be mad at him, glare at him or yell or something, but she doesn’t, just keeps her eyes on the front of the room, ignoring both Oliver and the other kids in the class who keep looking back at her with pitying glances. Oliver keeps his head down, determinedly taking notes while Mr. Simmons rambles on at the front of the room about Hamlet and melancholy and tragic flaws. 

The rest of the day drags. Tommy’s still mad at him, and Oliver isn’t up for having to face Dig’s quiet disapproval, so he ends up skipping out on lunch, spending half an hour driving aimlessly through Starling City until it’s time for fifth period.

When the final bell rings, Oliver practically sprints to the library. There’s a small part of him that’s worried Felicity isn’t going to show up. Not that he’d blame her, but just the thought of her not being there makes his stomach hurt. But when he walks into the library, Felicity’s there, looking just like she did that first day, a pen between her teeth and her books spread out in front of her.

She doesn’t look up when he walks into the room, but she doesn’t tell him to get out either, which Oliver’s taking as a good sign. He sits at the table next to her and starts unloading his backpack, stacking his textbooks on the table between them. Felicity doesn’t so much as glance in his direction and Oliver’s not sure he’s ever felt as terrible as he does in this moment.

"I’m sorry about the other night,” he finally blurts out. He can’t take it anymore, this heavy silence, especially not with Felicity, who usually starts babbling the second he shows up. "With Laurel. And with Sara. That wasn’t…I mean, we weren't…"

"It’s none of my business, Oliver,” Felicity says, cutting him off. She won't make eye contact, just keeps looking the table, fidgeting with the edges of her notebook. She’s not wearing nail polish, he notices, and her hands look small and strangely pale. 

“I meant what I said to you at the party,” he tells her desperately, all pretense of playing it cool evaporating in the face of her careful indifference. “Before, I mean…in Tommy’s bedroom." 

Felicity swallows hard, still staring down at her notebook. “We’ve only got two days until midterms start, so let’s just get to work, okay?"

“Felicity--” he starts.

“Please don't,” she says quietly, and when she finally glances up at him, her eyes are red-rimmed behind her glasses, and Oliver completely hates himself.

She blinks and looks back down at her notebook, and there's this ache in his chest that actually, physically hurts, like there's a weight pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe.

“I still...” he says and then stops, his voice coming out kind of rough. Felicity still isn’t looking at him, her shoulders tense, and even though he wants to tell her that he’s an idiot and that he’s sorry and that he likes her more than he's ever liked anyone, he knows that she doesn't want to hear any of that right now. So: “I still don’t really understand the whole unit circle thing,” he tells her instead, opening his calculus textbook. “Something about the quadrants just doesn’t make sense."

Felicity looks up and smiles at him gratefully, a real smile, and maybe its not as bright as it was before this weekend, but it’s there, and the heaviness in Oliver chest eases up a little, just enough so that it feels like he can breathe again.


	8. Chapter 8

On Monday, Felicity goes to school with a plan.

It’s a simple plan, but she’s pretty sure those are the best kind. Simple means easy, and easy means she can stick with it, which is good because, when it comes to Oliver Queen, Felicity needs all the help she can get.

The problem is, as mad as she is, as hurt as she is, she still likes him. _Really_ likes him, which is completely absurd considering that he basically broke her heart not once, but twice in the course of less than twelve hours. Felicity didn’t even know hearts could break twice like that, but apparently they can, something she discovered in the early hours of Saturday morning as she was lying in bed and experiencing her very first hangover.

At first she thought the hangover might be the worst part of her whole weekend, but then she turned on her phone opened Instagram and saw the picture of Oliver and Sara Lance making out at Tommy’s party and, yeah, that was _way_ worse than the hangover.

She had two missed calls and a voicemail from Oliver, which she should have deleted right away. Instead, they're still on her phone, along with the half dozen other voicemails he left her. She’s lost track of how many times she’s listened to them, which is completely pathetic, she knows, but what can you do. It's been a rough couple of days.

It was one of the voicemails -- the last one, actually, the one where Oliver didn’t apologize, didn’t bring up Tommy’s party or how sorry he was or how it was all just a big understanding, but instead just asked her for help with his lab report -- that helped Felicity come up with her very simple plan. Which is this: she is going to be Oliver’s tutor.

It should be easy enough, since she _is_ Oliver’s tutor. But what it really means is that she'll only spend time with him after school and that they'll only talk about school things. No talking about feelings or butterflies or apologies or anything else that makes Felicity feel, well, the way being around Oliver makes her feel.

Despite the fact that the plan should be easy and simple, Felicity takes the coward's way out during first period, showing up after the bell rings and more or less running away once class is over. But at least it works, which gives Felicity the rest of the day to prepare herself for seeing Oliver after school. It’s going to be a lot harder to avoid talking to him and feeling things about him when it’s just the two of them, alone and sitting next to each other in that room off the library.

And it is hard at first, especially since Oliver seems hellbent on making it as difficult as possible for her to stick to her plan. Because, the truth is, she wants to believe him, wants to believe that he likes her as much as he said he did, that it wasn’t just alcohol and boredom that made him say what he said in Tommy's bedroom on Friday night. He keeps trying to apologize and Felicity keeps trying to not listen to him until she’s finally had enough and tells him to stop.

Which, surprisingly, he does, staying focused on his schoolwork, asking questions when he doesn’t understand something and keeping a respectable distance between them. He doesn't once do that thing where he touches her wrist to get her attention or flicks her ponytail back when she leans forward and it falls over her shoulder. He doesn't smile at her or flirt with her or touch her at all.

And that’s good. It’s exactly what she wants. Isn't it?

*

On Tuesday, Felicity’s at her locker after lunch, swapping out her American Government book for her physics book, when suddenly Sara’s leaning against the locker next to hers. Felicity hasn’t actually seen Sara since Friday night -- other than in the pictures of her and Oliver, of course -- and Felicity doesn’t know what to say. “Um...hi?”

Sara smiles, looking relieved. “Hi.”

“What’s up?” Felicity asks, closing her locker and snapping the lock shut. She yanks on it once to test it, and then shrugs her backpack over her shoulders. She starts walking to her class, not checking to see if Sara is going to follow.

“I haven't had a chance to talk to you, and I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay,” Sara says, falling into step beside her as Felicity heads towards the science building.

“Of course,” Felicity says, even though it’s a total lie. It’s like that picture is seared into her brain, Sara lying on top of Oliver, the two of them wrapped around each other. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you like Ollie and there’s a picture going around school of him making out with me at Tommy’s party.” Oh. Well. That was...direct.

Felicity stops short, right in the middle of the crowded hallway, a couple of kids pushing past her on their way to class. “Oh,” is all she says, because this isn’t part of her plan. In her plan, she doesn’t have to think about this at all, and she _definitely_ doesn’t have to talk about it.

Sara stops, too, turning around to face her. “I’m really sorry, Felicity,” she says sincerely. "Me and Ollie were both kind of drunk and feeling sorry for ourselves, and I'm just...I'm sorry.”

Felicity shrugs, biting her lip, not really sure what she feels. She hasn’t talked about this with anyone, since she’s declared it off-limits to Oliver and it’s not like any of her friends even know how she feels about Oliver at all. And Dig and Tommy are great, but they’re guys, and anyway, they’re Oliver’s friends, not hers. So as insane as it might sound, Sara’s sort of the only person she could talk to about this. If she was going to talk about it with anyone. Which she isn’t, except…

“So are the two of you...?” Felicity asks before she can stop herself. Part of her doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to have it confirmed, but she also knows that if she’s ever going to get over Oliver, she needs to hear the truth, hear that what he said to her in Tommy’s bedroom was just another line.

But: “We’re not,” Sara says quickly. “We’re really, _really_ not. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Ollie’s a great guy. Most of the time. But I’ve got a girlfriend, and Ollie and Laurel…”

“Right,” Felicity manages to say. Because that’s what this comes down to, isn’t it? Oliver and gorgeous, perfect Laurel. She shifts her backpack to her other shoulder, the familiar prickle of tears starting to burn behind her eyes. “Well, thanks for...letting me know, I guess.”

“Felicity,” Sara says, and she sounds a little desperate. “I didn’t mean--”

“It’s fine,” Felicity cuts her off, swallowing past the knot in her throat. “I just, I’ve gotta go. I’m going to be late for class.”

She tries to step around Sara, but Sara reaches out and touches her gently on the arm, right above the elbow. “You know, I probably shouldn’t be saying this because Laurel’s my sister, and I have done more than enough damage on that front, but...Ollie really likes you,” Sara tells her, and Felicity hates the little thrill that shoots through her. “I mean, he could barely shut up about you, that night at Tommy’s, talking about how you make him feel and how he’s never liked anyone as much as he likes you. And for what it's worth, I'm pretty sure he and Laurel aren't getting back together this time.”

“Oh,” Felicity says right as the fifth period bell rings. Around them, the hallway is suddenly empty, a couple of classroom doors slamming shut.

“Well, I’ve should get to class," Sara says apologetically. "One more tardy, and I get detention, and my dad will be even more disappointed in me than he already is.” Sara smiles and gives Felicity’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I know Ollie can be a jerk sometimes, but maybe think about giving him another chance. He really does care about you.”

Felicity nods, not sure how to respond. By the time she finally manages to get her bearings and go to class, she’s fifteen minutes late, and she gets her first ever tardy. Her week is just getting better and better.

*

When Felicity gets to the library after school, Oliver’s already there, his books spread out on the table in front of him, his uniform buttoned all the way to the top and his tie knotted perfectly. He looks studious and dedicated, like a bizarro version of himself. It’s honestly pretty unsettling.

He glances up when Felicity walks in and gives her a bland smile before turning back to his work. “I went ahead and started working on my study guide for history,” he tells her, glancing between his textbook and the paper in front of him, copying something down. “We’re doing an in-class review tomorrow, but I’ve got four midterms this week, so I wanted to get a head start."

Felicity nods vaguely, sitting down beside him and glancing over at the study guide Oliver is working on. He's only made it through three questions, but the answers he's come up with are right, which is something. Felicity watches as he starts writing down the answer to the next question, thinking about what Sara said to her earlier, wondering if maybe Oliver put her up to it. “Did you ask Sara to talk to me?” she finally blurts out.

“No,” Oliver says, looking up at her. The bland smile gone, replaced by a look of confusion. “Why?”

“No reason,” Felicity lies. After all, she’s the one who told Oliver she didn’t want to talk about any of this, and she still doesn’t, so. Yeah. She clears her throat. “What midterms do you have on Thursday?”

Oliver looks at her for a few more seconds, the air suddenly heavy with all the things she knows he's trying hard not to say. Finally, he blinks, looking back down at him homework. “English and World History.”

“Okay,” Felicity agrees, and she pulls up her chair closer to the table, close enough that her foot accidentally brushes against his under the table. Beside her, Oliver sucks in a breath, and Felicity swallows hard, forcing herself to move her foot away, shifting so there’s some space between them.

Oliver’s shoulders slump slightly, but Felicity pretends like she doesn’t notice. And, yeah, it’s kind of hard right now, things between them awkward and tense, but at least she’s not going to make the same mistake again.

Really, she tells herself, it’s better this way.

*

On Wednesday, Oliver’s late for tutoring. After the final bell rings, five minutes pass, then ten, then twenty, then thirty, and he’s still not there.

At first Felicity's annoyed, and then she's worried, and then she swings back around to annoyed again. She's about to pack up her stuff and call it a day when suddenly the door to the tutoring room opens and Oliver’s there. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t apologize for making her wait, just closes the door a little too hard behind him.

“You’re late,” Felicity tells him, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.

Oliver shrugs, dropping his backpack on the floor next to the table. Now that he’s closer, she can see there’s something wrong with his face, the skin around his right eye puffy and red and swollen.

“What happened?” she says, reaching towards him without thinking. The skin around his eye is hot, and he jerks away when she touches him. “Oliver?”

He glares at her and then glances down at the table. A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I have two midterms tomorrow, Felicity, so maybe we can skip the part where you pretend to care about me, and you can just do your job.”

“Excuse me?” Felicity demands, going from concerned to angry in a flash.

He starts taking books out of his bag, practically slamming each one down on the table. “You obviously don’t care what’s actually wrong, so let’s just get through this,” he snaps.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Is he seriously mad at _her_ right now?

“It means that you’ve made it very clear that you’re just my tutor and nothing else,” Oliver tells her, his voice is hard and flat. “So you don’t get to act like you’re my friend, like you care about me at all.”

“You're the one who left me to run after Laurel!” Felicity says, feeling more frustrated than she can ever remember being. She doesn’t mean to bring up Tommy’s party, since that's not even what they're talking about and also because it goes against her whole don't-talk-about-feelings plan, and Oliver flinches, an injured expression flickering across his face before he’s back to glaring at her.

“Please,” he scoffs, grabbing a pencil out of his bag and pointing it at her. “You ditched me.”

He can _not_ be serious right now. “ _What_?”

“I asked you to wait for me in Tommy’s room, and when I got back, you were just gone.”

“Because you went chasing after Laurel!”

“Because she’s my girlfriend!” he explodes, and Felicity feels like the breath’s been knocked out of her.

“Right,” she agrees, because that’s what it comes down to, right? Laurel’s apparently his girlfriend, and Felicity’s his tutor, and she needs to stop letting herself get deluded into thinking otherwise.

“Felicity,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean…”

“I need some air,” she says, and her voice barely trembles at all. She pushes past him, not trusting herself to look up, her vision going watery as she stares down at the floor, one foot in front of the other until she’s outside of the library, the sun bright and warm overhead.

It’s late enough that the campus is pretty deserted, and she ends up sitting on the steps outside the library, taking a couple of deep breaths and hating herself for getting pulled back into the whole Oliver thing. It’s fine, though, it’s only two more days and she can get through it.

Behind her, the door opens, but Felicity doesn’t turn. She hears Oliver let out a breath, like he’s relieved she’s still there, and then he’s sitting on the steps next to her, leaving enough room that another person could fit between them. He doesn’t say anything, and after a couple of seconds, she glances at him sidelong. He’s still holding his pencil, turning it over and over in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice quiet and serious. He’s still staring down at his hands, not looking at her.

“Were you apologizing to me or to your pencil?” Felicity asks, and he rolls his eyes as he picks his head up.

“I didn’t snap at my pencil.”

“You did a lot more than snap.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I…” he sighs and scrubs a hand across his face, wincing when he touches his eye. “I’ve had a rough couple of days.”

She points to his eye. “What happened?”

“I got into a fight with Tommy.”

Felicity nods, biting her lip. “About what?”

“Laurel,” he says, and her stomach does that horrible dropping thing it’s been doing a lot lately.

“Oh," she says. It makes sense. People get back together all the time. Just because Sara said Oliver and Laurel were broken up, doesn't mean they are or that they'll stay that way. After all, they've been together forever and Laurel's basically perfect and...

“Hey,” Oliver says in a soft voice, and she can't stop from looking up at him. “You know, Laurel and me...that’s over. Really over."

“Is that what you want?” Felicity can’t stop herself from asking. Ugh, what is wrong with her? She's not going to let herself get sucked into this whole thing again, she reminds herself. 

“Yes,” he says, and he sounds like he means it.

Felicity nods, not sure if she believes him, but when she looks over at him, he’s watching her in this way that makes her chest ache. The bruise around his eye is already getting worse, the bright red starting to turn a mottled purplish color.

“I like you, Felicity,” he tells her again, and her heart skips traitorously in her chest. “And I know you’re hurt, and I know that it’s my fault, and I’m sorry, and I have no idea what to do to make it better. And I just, I don’t know where that leaves us. But I do know that I don’t like how things are right now. I don’t like that you won’t talk to me.”

“I don’t like it either,” Felicity admits, and something in her chest loosens, like a weight has been lifted.

Oliver gives her a soft smile, and even though they’re already behind on studying today and they have a lot they still need to do before their exams start tomorrow, they sit on the steps like that for a little bit longer, neither one of them saying anything at all.

*

On Thursday, Felicity’s a little worried that things between her and Oliver might be weird. Well. Weirder than they’ve already been. She's not quite sure where they ended up yesterday, but she thinks it might be somewhere near to them being friends. Which, that's good, right? She can definitely be friends with Oliver.

She gets to first period early, feeling kind of antsy even though it’s only seven in the morning. It feels like it takes forever before Oliver finally shows up, smiling at her as soon as he strolls into the classroom a couple of seconds before the bell rings.

His eye looks even worse than it did yesterday, the bruise spreading down his cheek, but when he smiles at her, Felicity thinks that it also looks kind of sexy, giving him this kind of bad-boy look, and she _so_ needs to stop that train of thought right now. Beaten-up Oliver Queen is not sexy, she reminds herself sternly. But then he walks by her desk and winks at her with his good eye, and she can’t stop the way her breath catches in her throat.

At the front of the room, Ms. Lewis is passing out the study guide, and Felicity takes the stack of papers from the kid in front of her, peeling off the top packet before turning around to hand the last one to Oliver.

“Hi,” he says in a low voice, one that makes Felicity feel things that are wholly inappropriate for an early morning mid-term review. When he takes the papers from her, his fingers brush up against hers, and, wow, that whole beat-up bad boy thing is really, _really_ working for him. She sucks in a breath, and he grins, and okay, she seriously needs to get herself under control.

“Focus,” she says sternly, not sure if she's talking to him or to herself, and his smile gets even wider. “Our exam is tomorrow.”

“Right,” Oliver agrees with mock seriousness, but then as she turns around, he winks at her again, and her stomach flips. Damn it. It’s been less than a week and already her plan has _completely_ fallen apart.

*

When Oliver shows up at the library after school, he looks drained, his blazer clutched in his hand and his tie loose around his neck.

“How’d it go?” Felicity asks immediately. Oliver had two exams today -- English and history -- and even though those are his two best subjects, Felicity’s been nervous all day. He sent her a text after his English text, but all it said was: _1 down, 1 to go_ , and in between her own tests, she hadn’t had a chance to do more than text _good luck, you’ll do great!_ back to him.

“Ugh,” he groans, dropping down at the seat next to her and leaning down to rest his forehead on the table. “I hate tests."

“I’m sure you did fine,” Felicity says, but truthfully she's a little worried.

“Maybe,” Oliver says, his voice muffled against the table. “But tomorrow are the really tough ones.” They’ve got their chemistry final first thing in the morning, and then he’s got calculus after lunch, and she knows if he’s going to run into any problems, it’s going to be in calc. 

“You have the study guides though, right?” 

Oliver nods, sighing as he picks his head up from the table and reaching down into his backpack to pull out the study guides. 

“Well, we’re basically already done with the chemistry stuff,” she says, pulling the papers towards her and flipping through the calculus packet. “This doesn’t look too bad,” she says, and when she glances up at him, he’s unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt. She watches in fascination as he rolls up his sleeves, revealing the smooth, tan skin on his forearms. And, yeah, wow, he has really nice forearms.

“Felicity?” he says, and when she glances up at him, he’s smirking at her. Jerk. 

She rolls her eyes and slides the calculus worksheets back over to him. “Let’s get to work,” she says, and he smiles.

They end up studying pretty intensely for the next two hours, going through the calculus study guide until Oliver feels like he’s comfortable with the trig functions and then spending the rest of the time reviewing chemistry. They’re finishing up, both of them standing at the table as they pack up their things, when the door to the study room opens, and Principal Steele is there, looking vaguely imposing in his dark grey suit. 

“Principal Steele,” Felicity says. The entire time she’s been tutoring after school here, Mr. Steele has never stopped by to check in on her. She takes a small step away from Oliver, making sure there's a respectable amount of space between them. “Is everything okay?"

“Yes, everything is fine, Felicity,” he says, giving her a reassuring smile, before turning to Oliver. He narrows his eyes when he notices the bruise on Oliver’s face, but doesn’t comment on it. “I'm simply here to offer Oliver my congratulations."

“For what?” Oliver asks, sounding confused.

“I’ve spoken to both Mr. Simmons and Ms. Waller, and they have informed that you have successfully passed both your World History and English Literature midterm exams,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly at the shocked expression on Oliver’s face. “It appears that you are well on your way to returning to the Starling Academy football team."

"Seriously?” Oliver asks, sounding like he doesn’t actually believe it.

"Quite seriously," Principal Steele says wryly before glancing over at Felicity with a smile. "It seems your time with Miss Smoak has been well spent."

“Yeah," Oliver agrees, and he looks at her in this way that makes her heart skip. "She’s remarkable."

Felicity blushes, her cheeks burning and her heart racing.

Luckily, Mr. Steele doesn’t seem to notice. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to it, then,” he says. "Good luck on your exams tomorrow, Oliver. You as well, Felicity."

“Thank you, sir,” Felicity says, and Oliver nods, still looking a sort of dazed at the good news.

Mr. Steele leaves, the door closing softly behind him and then Oliver turns to her with a huge smile. “We did it!” he says, and he just looks so happy that Felicity doesn’t even think about it as she leans over and hugs him, throwing her arms around his neck like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

He freezes for a second, but then he’s hugging her back, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to him, one hand around her waist and the other cupped against the back of her neck. He’s not wearing his blazer, and his body is hard beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. She can feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of her ear, and if she’s trying to get over him, this is absolutely the worst thing she could have done, but for some reason, she can’t bring herself to pull away.

“Thank you, Felicity,” he says, his voice low and intimate, and Felicity actually shivers. It’s quiet in the library, and she can hear Oliver’s breathing shift, turning shallow and fast, and she definitely needs to put an end to this. 

When she pulls away, Oliver's watching her with dark eyes, and Felicity clears her throat, taking a step back, trying to get her bearings. 

“Nice work,” Felicity tells him, trying to sound casual, but her voice comes out strange, low and rough. She can still feel the heat of his body against her skin. “You’ll be back on the team in no time."

Oliver looks at her for a long moment before he nods. “Yeah,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets, and leaning back against the edge of the table. "But history and English are definitely my best classes. Chemistry and calculus are going to be way harder."

Felicity smiles, leaning beside him. “Well, then you’re lucky you have me.” She bumps her shoulder against his, and he turns to her, the eyebrow over his bruised eye quirked. It takes her a second, but: “Not that you _have me_ have me,” she says quickly. "You don’t have me, obviously, just…you know what I mean."

"I do," Oliver says, and he’s beaming at her, their shoulders still touching. He’s looking at her in that way he sometimes does, his eyes flicking down to her mouth, and Felicity’s body starts to feel warm, like there’s heat flooding through her. 

She clears her throat, glancing away from him. “And, hey, at least we’re ending on a high note,” she jokes, and when she looks back over at him, his face falls. “I mean,” she adds hastily, realizing that maybe that sounded kind of callous. “Not that we’re ending, we’ll still see each other in chemistry. As long as you keep showing up,” she teases, but he only gives her a half-smile in return, looking distracted.

Oliver waits as she finishes putting all her books away and then slings his backpack over his shoulder, the two of them heading out of the library, walking close enough that their arms keep brushing. “So do you have any plans for tomorrow?" he asks once they're outside.

“You mean once I’m done with all my midterms, and you’ve passed all your midterms, and there's an entire weekend before we have to worry about school again?" Felicity asks, squinting against the sun to look up at him

“Yeah,” Oliver agrees. He sound sort of strange, his voice a little shaky. He clears his throat. "What I mean is, are you busy tomorrow night?"

“No,” Felicity says. The truth is, she hasn’t been feeling up to hanging out much this week, and after the disaster that was last Friday night, she thought it might be best to stay home this weekend, hole up in her room and work on some of the programming stuff she’s been neglecting. “Why?"

Oliver clears his throat again, crossing his arms over his chest and then uncrossing them again nervously. "It’s just…you’ve been such a big help, and I’ve already passed two of my exams, which I couldn’t have done without you, and I’m actually feeling not horrible about both of my tests tomorrow -- not that I think I’m going to pass for sure or anything -- but it’s definitely more than I could have done on my own and…"

“Oliver?" Felicity interrupts because listening to Oliver Queen ramble is weird and unsettling. "What are you trying to say?"

Oliver exhales, taking a deep breath, before looking at her again. "Do you want to go to dinner with me?"

“Um,” Felicity says, which, in the many times in the past two weeks she has imagined this exact scenario, has never been her response. Because of course she wants to go out to dinner with him, but she’s been down this road before -- well, not the going to dinner road, but the falling for Oliver road, with the spending Friday night with him -- or not, spending the night with him, obviously, just hanging out with him -- and hoping that something will happen, except this time it’s different, because he doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore, but it’s probably still a bad idea --

"It could just be as a thank you, if you want,” Oliver says, interrupting her mental babble. "For helping me, I mean."

"A thank you?" Felicity repeats.

“Yeah, I mean, no pressure or anything,” he says, but he’s looking at her really intensely, really hopefully. "I can understand if you don’t want to or if --"

“Okay," she says, interrupting him. 

“Okay?” Oliver echoes, like he doesn't quite believe it.

“Okay," Felicity says again, and she's smiling so hard that her whole face hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay in getting this chapter posted; writer's block struck, probably because this chapter is a pretty much a transition chapter before more fun things (awkward first dates, secret relationships, first times -- aka all of my favorite tropes) start to happen and I've been itching to get to those ever since I first started writing this story. But: thank you to everyone who's still reading! Also, I will post any updates about the story on [my tumblr](http://jemmaniac.tumblr.com), so feel free to follow me there if you're interested in that sort of thing :) 
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who has stuck with this story, and especially to all of you who have left kudos or commented -- every bit of feedback I get is more motivation to keep writing :)


	9. Chapter 9

On Thursday night, Oliver spends way too much time making plans for his dinner with Felicity and not nearly enough time studying for his midterms. But, to be fair, studying for midterms sucks and planning his date -- or, sorry, his _thank you dinner_ \-- makes his stomach flip pleasantly.

Of course, that when he gets to school on Friday morning, he’s more than a little panicked. It’s just, if he doesn’t pass his exams, he’s going to get kicked off the team for good and, after the complete mess he’s made of his life over the past week, he’s not sure he can deal with losing football too.

But then he walks into first period, and Felicity’s there. She’s going over her notes, her glasses sliding down her nose as she stares intently down at her notebook, mouthing what are probably chemical equations to herself, and just the sight of her makes Oliver relax, the anxiety draining out of him. After all, if he fails his tests today, he’ll still need tutoring, right?

Not that he’s planning on failing, of course. But he has thought a lot about it's going to be when he’s back on the team, spending every day after school on the practice field rather than in the library. He’ll still see Felicity in chemistry every morning, but that’s not really the same thing as being with her, just the two of them. 

When Felicity sees him, she smiles, and Oliver can’t help but smile back. He sometimes can’t believe how much he likes her, how much just being around her makes his day better. But it does, and there’s no way he’s going to give that up.

The exam turns out to be even harder than he thought it would be, and it takes him the entire period to get through it. Felicity turns hers in after about twenty minutes, which isn’t a surprise since she’s basically a super-genius, but Oliver can’t help but feel discouraged. She smiles and gives him a thumbs up on her way out of the room, which he appreciates, although not as much as he’d appreciate if she could remind him just one more time about that whole acid-base-something-to-do-with-pH-thing he can never seem to remember.

It takes him the entire period to finish his test, finally just randomly guessing on the last couple of questions, figuring it’s better to write something rather than nothing. Maybe if Ms. Lewis if feeling generous, he’ll get partial credit.

He trudges out of the class, not looking forward to English next period, having to sit next to Laurel while she alternately glares at him and ignores him. But when he gets out to the hallway, Felicity’s leaning against a row of lockers and tapping away at her phone, and things don’t seem quite so terrible.

“Hey,” he says, and she looks up, eyes wide behind her glasses.

“How did it go?” she asks immediately, dropping her phone into her backpack.

He smiles. He’s really glad she waited for him. “Okay, I guess,” he shrugs.

“That’s a pretty big smile for just ‘okay’,” Felicity says, narrowing her eyes and looking at him with suspicion.

Oliver purses his lips and looks down at the ground. _Way to play it cool, Oliver._ “I’m just relieved it’s over,” he tells her, which is true. She looks like she doesn’t quite buy that, so he says, “I had a some trouble with the pH stuff.”

“Oliver,” she groans, reaching out and clutching his arm dramatically. “We went over that like a dozen times last night." Her nails are painted cherry red, bright against the dark fabric of his blazer, and his stomach does that flipping thing it always does when she touches him.

“I know,” he tells her apologetically. She sighs, and shakes her head, but she’s smiling and she’s still holding onto his arm. Oliver clears his throat. “So,” he says. "Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Felicity echoes, letting go of his arm and standing up straighter. “Right. Tonight. Dinner. With you. And me, obviously. Us."

Oliver smiles. “Right. Well, _we_ have a reservation tonight at Table Salt at eight."

Felicity laughs, and Oliver looks at her, confused. “Wait,” she says. “You’re serious?”

“Is that not okay?” Oliver asks. He really thought she was going to be excited. Table Salt is booked solid for the next three months, but he managed to charm and name-drop his way to a table for two on a Friday night with less than 24 hours notice.

“Table Salt is the nicest, most exclusive restaurant in the city,” Felicity tells him seriously, like he might not already know this.

“Yeah,” Oliver says slowly. That is, after all, why he chose it. “So?”

“So...it seems kind of fancy for a thank you dinner,” Felicity says lightly. Oliver doesn’t respond and she looks over at him, eyebrows raised behind her glasses. “This is still just a thank you dinner, right? I mean, that’s what you said yesterday.”

“That _is_ what I said yesterday,” Oliver agrees, even though he is having a really hard time not thinking about it as a date.

"So…” Felicity trails off, biting her lip.

"So I’ll pick you up at 7:30?” he says easily, like it’s no big deal. Because it’s not. It’s not like they’ve never gone to dinner before, and there’s no reason for Felicity to get nervous or have second thoughts, which he can tell she’s having from the way she’s worrying at her lip.

“Oliver," Felicity starts, but then the second period bells rings and he takes advantage of the distraction, turning around and heading down the hall to his class.

"I’ll see you tonight," he calls over his shoulder, jogging down the hallway, not giving her a chance to change her mind.

*

Oliver manages to avoid Felicity for the rest of the day at school. Not because he doesn’t want to see her -- it's the opposite, actually, he wants to see her so much it makes his stomach hurt -- but because he’s worried she might change her mind about dinner.

Somehow, he makes it through the rest of the day, powering through his calculus midterm and heading out to the parking lot right after the final bell. It feels strange not going to the library after last period, and he has to force himself to go straight to his car, not take a detour to see if Felicity is staying after school like she usually does.

He’s turning into his driveway when his phone beeps, and when he glances at it, it’s a message from Felicity. His heart does that speeding up thing it does, and he gets a feeling of panic in his stomach, worried that she’s canceling on him.

But instead: _7:30, right?_ the text says, and Oliver breathes an audible sigh of relief, relaxing a little.

 _7:30,_ Oliver texts back, pulling up in front of his house. His heart is beating strangely, skipping fast in his chest, and he legitimately can’t believe how nervous he is about tonight. He’s never been this nervous about going out with a girl, not ever. But with Felicity…it’s just, it’s different with her, somehow. It feels like going out to dinner is more than that, that it’s something bigger, something more important, and no matter how absurd that might sound, he can’t seem to shake it.

*

Oliver spends an embarrassing amount of time trying to decide what to wear to dinner, before he finally ends up in a dark grey suit with a blue tie. He’s never felt the need to dress up to impress a girl before, and he’s worried it looks like he’s trying too hard, but he wants to make a good impression. Which he realizes is ridiculous since he’s already had two weeks to make an impression on Felicity, but he doesn’t know. He just wants to look nice tonight is all.

When he heads downstairs, his parents and Thea are in the foyer, the three of them looking like they're about to head out the door. Thea's got her hair in braids and there's an overnight bag sitting at her feet, and his parents are dressed to the nines, his dad in a tux and his mom in this long, shimmering gown. Probably on their way to some gala or something, the kind boring work function that they go to practically every weekend. 

“That looks a little formal for a football game, son,” his dad says, nodding at Oliver's suit as he walks down the stairs.

Oliver smiles, smoothing down his tie. “I’m going to dinner.”

“Oh,” his mother says, sounding surprised. “With Laurel?”

Oliver adjusts his cuffs, clearing his throat as he gets to the bottom of the stairs. “With Felicity, actually.”

“I knew it!” Thea crows, grinning and bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. Beside her, their mother rolls her eyes, and their dad blinks, his forehead knit in confusion.

“Felicity," his dad repeats, like he's trying to place the name. "She's your tutor, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Oliver shrugs, like it's no big deal, like he takes Felicity out to dinner all the time. “Or she was. Midterms finished today.”

“And you’re taking her out to dinner,” his mom says. She's still being weird about him and Felicity, always asking him these loaded questions about Felicity and looking troubled whenever Oliver mentions her.

“It’s a thank you dinner,” Oliver clarifies. He really doesn't want this to turn into some big discussion right now.

“Yeah, right,” Thea says under her breath. Oliver ignores her.

“And does this mean you’ve passed all of your exams?” his dad asks, sounding hopeful. Oliver knows his dad loves him and all, and that he'd do anything for him, but Oliver's never actually thought his dad was all that proud of him. At least, not until last night, when Oliver told him about his B on his English test and his C in History, and his dad grinned and hugged him, telling him how proud of him he was and sounding like he meant it. It felt pretty great, to tell you the truth.

“I won’t find out until grades get posted on Monday,” Oliver tells him apologetically. 

“But you’re expecting to pass,” his father says, and it sounds like a statement, not a question.

“I do,” Oliver says, which is actually the truth. Yeah, the tests were hard, but the more he thinks about them, the better he feels. Other than the pH stuff in chemistry and some of the trickier functions on the calculus test, he actually felt like he knew what he was doing. Really, he probably should be doing a lot more to thank Felicity than trying to trick her into going on a date with him.

“So where are you taking her?” his dad asks. He's got this knowing look on his face, but it's not the same as his mom's, the look less suspicious and more amused. 

“Table Salt.”

His mother raises her eyebrows, glancing at his dad and then back at Oliver. “That’s a bit much for a thank you dinner, isn’t it?”

Oliver shrugs. “I thought Felicity would like it," he says easily. "She’s never been.”

“I see,” his mother says, studying him in this way that makes him nervous. “Well, you look very handsome.”

“Yeah, except for your eye,” Thea pipes up. “That looks terrible.”

“Thanks, Speedy,” Oliver deadpans, and Thea smiles at him sweetly. Man, he really doesn't know when she turned into such a brat, but he's really starting to miss his sweet kid sister.

“Well, your sister's staying at a friend's house tonight, and your mother and I are attending the opening of the new museum downtown," his dad tells him. "We'll probably be home around midnight."

Thea smirks. “Yeah, just in case you want to keep saying 'thank you' to Felicity after dinner.”

“Thea,” his mother sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose and sounding exasperated. "That's enough."

Oliver just ignores her, grabbing his keys and heading for the door. He is more than ready for this conversation to be over. “Have fun at your work thing,” he says to his parents, and then tugs gently on the end of Thea’s braid. “Try to be less of a brat, Speedy.” 

*

Traffic is actually pretty light, and he gets to Felicity’s house early, pulling up at curb at around 7:15. He’s weirdly nervous, and he flips open the mirror on his visor, adjusting his tie and then wincing at the sight of his eye.

Thea was right, it does look terrible. It isn’t as swollen as it was, but the bruise has turned a dark purplish-blue. It also hurts, this dull, low throb that serves as a constant reminder of all the ways he’s fucked up recently. He still can’t believe Tommy actually hit him. Ugh, he really doesn’t want to think about any of this right now. So he sighs and flips the visor back up, taking a deep breath and trying to focus on tonight, trying not to think of the mess he's made of his life.

It’s still not 7:30, but he feels like an idiot, sitting out here in his car, staring at himself in the mirror, so he turns off the ignition and gets out of the car. It’s a cool night, but he feels weirdly warm, his palms sweating slightly. He's incredibly nervous, his heart beating too fast, and he’s raising his hand to knock on the door, when suddenly it swings open and Felicity’s there.

She’s got on this short red dress and these tall black heels, her legs looking even longer than they normally do, and her hair is down, falling in loose waves around her shoulders, and she’s pretty much the most beautiful thing he’s seen in his life.

“Hi.” She gives him a nervous smile and he realizes he’s just standing there like, staring at her like a psycho.

“Uh, hi,” he says. She’s not wearing her glasses, he realizes, and he thinks maybe that’s throwing him off. “Are you ready?"

“I am,” Felicity says. She steps outside, turning around to lock the door, and because of how he’s standing, she ends up really close to him, her back brushing up against the front of his body. She smells really nice, something bright and sort of flowery, and his heart is really racing. When she turns around again, he’s still just standing there, and he seriously can’t believe what a weirdo he’s being right now.

So he clears his throat and forces himself to take a step back, away from her, waiting as Felicity puts her keys into her purse. “Is your mom here?”

“No," Felicity says quickly, glancing up at him, as she heads out to his car. “Why?"

Oliver shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets, hoping it might help with the whole sweating palms thing. "Just thought I’d say hi."

"She’s at work," Felicity tells him, and then adds in a quiet voice, "Thank god."

Oliver smiles at that, reaching out to open the car door for her. The dress she's wearing fits her really well, and he can't take his eyes off her, and he knows this is maybe not a date, but he can't stop himself when he says: "You look amazing."

"Thank you, Oliver." Felicity beams at him, and the butterflies start up like crazy and he's pretty sure his feelings for her are more than just a crush. 

*

Table Salt is packed, but the hostess smiles easily when Oliver gives her his name, leading them to a quiet table at the back. Felicity looks a little overwhelmed, biting her lip as she looks around the room, so Oliver gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile, pulling out her chair for her.

“Thanks,” she says, smiling up at him gratefully, and Oliver cannot believe how nervous he is right now. He’s literally spent hours alone with Felicity over the last two weeks, but it’s like suddenly he doesn’t know how to act around her, not quite sure what to do. Luckily, the waiter appears beside their table to take their drink orders, saving them at least momentarily from Oliver's complete inability to be cool. 

“I’ll just have water, please,” Felicity tells the waiter, handing him the drink menu without even looking at it. 

“Are you sure you don’t want something stronger?” Oliver blurts out, reaching out to stop the waiter from taking the menu. “They have a really good wine list here.”

“We’re underage,” Felicity says in a loud whisper, sounding scandalized, and the waiter raises his eyebrows, glancing down at the floor, this look on his face like he’s trying hard not to laugh.

Oliver gives him a tight smile, handing him back the drink menu. “Two waters."

“Sorry,” Felicity says once the waiter leaves, looking down and fidgeting with her napkin in her lap.

"Don’t worry about it,” he tells her half-heartedly, and she glances up at him with a nervous smile. He smiles back, feeling awkward and racking his brain for something to say, coming up completely blank. Around them, the restaurant is filled with the steady hum of conversation, people talking and laughing, but neither one of them is saying anything, both of them sitting there in silence.

“So this is pretty awkward,” Felicity says, and Oliver laughs, some of the tension draining out of him. 

“Yeah, it is,” he agrees, and the smile she gives him makes his stomach flip. “I’m just...I’m kind of nervous,” he confesses. His mouth is really dry. Where are those waters they ordered? He thought this place was supposed to have really good service.

“You’re nervous?” Felicity says, sounding skeptical.

“I am,” Oliver tells her. “Which is weird because I’ve actually never been nervous on a date before.”

“A date?” Felicity says, her eyebrows raised and her eyes wide. “This is a date?”

 _Shit._ “I mean...I didn’t mean it was date,” he backpedals. “I just meant…” he clears his throat.

Felicity opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, but suddenly, their waiter’s back, dropping off their drinks and handing them dinner menus, and Felicity’s watching him, a look on her face he can’t read.

*

All in all, dinner goes pretty well. 

It’s definitely kind of awkward at first, but they finally manage to find some things to talk about, school and midterms and some computer thing Felicity’s really excited about, but that Oliver doesn’t understand at all. She looks really pretty when she talks about it, though, leaning over the table to talk to him, her skin glowing warmly in the dim light of the restaurant.

And if they carefully avoid any of the things that they probably should talk about -- like any of the stuff that’s happening between them or if they’re still going to see each other even if Oliver doesn’t have tutoring anymore or whether or not this is actually a date -- Oliver thinks that’s probably for the best.

So they stick to safe topics, making small talk and enjoying their dinner, which Oliver's okay with, mostly because he’s worried if he asks Felicity too many direct questions about what she wants or how she feels about him, he might not like her answers.

*

He’s mostly quiet on the drive home, trying to sort things through in his head. 

Dinner tonight was probably too much, too fast he realizes now, but he’s never been in a situation where he’s liked a girl who didn’t want to be with him. But Felicity...she’s been giving him pretty clear signals since he screwed up, signals that she wants some space, that she isn’t quite ready to trust him again, but he just likes her _so much._ And tonight, as awkward as it was sometimes, just proved to him that he’s not going to be able to be with her without, you know, wanting to be _with_ her.

So he drives her home, not talking to her, instead spending the whole time brooding about what’s going to happen if she doesn’t want that too.

When they get to her house, it’s dark and quiet, none of the lights on inside. Oliver pulls up to the curb, shifting into park and taking a deep breath, flexing his fingers around the steering wheel. He wants to ask her what they’re doing, what she wants, but for some reason he can’t seem to get the words out.

“Hey,” Felicity says, reaching over and touching the back of his hand softly. His stomach flips. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Oliver lies. He doesn’t look at her, just keeps staring out the windshield in front of him towards the empty street, trying to work up the nerve to say what he wants to say. Felicity’s still touching his hand, her fingers soft and warm against his skin, and it really isn’t fair how much he likes her.

“Okay, well,” she says after a couple of seconds. She sounds confused, her voice quiet. “Goodnight, Oliver. Thank you for dinner.”

He nods, and she pulls her hand away from his, moving away, and it’s like something in him breaks. She’s turned away from him, starting to open the door, and Oliver reaches out, wrapping his fingers loosely around her wrist.

Felicity inhales sharply, glancing down at his hand and then up at him, and he kisses her before he can stop himself, leaning over the console and pressing his lips against hers.

Felicity freezes, going completely still, and he pulls back, letting go of her wrist, panic surging through him. She’s staring at him, her eyes wide and her mouth open slightly, this look on her face like she’s not sure what just happened.

“I’m sorry,” he says desperately. She’s just sitting there, and, shit, he is _such_ an idiot. “I thought...I just...I don’t know what I thought, Felicity. And I’m sorry, I’m --”

And then she’s suddenly kissing him, running her tongue across his bottom lip, opening her mouth under his. Oliver kisses her back desperately, and it’s like all the pent-up feelings from the last two weeks are trying to burst out of him all at once. 

He cups one hand against the back of her neck, threading his fingers through her hair, pulling her towards him, trying to get as close to her as possible. Her lips are soft and warm and she tastes like the chocolate cake she had for dessert and he has never wanted anyone as much as he wants her right now. He nips at her lower lip and Felicity gasps into his mouth, shifting closer to him, practically climbing over the console between them, cupping her hand against his jaw. Her fingers brush against the bruise of his eye, and he winces.

"Sorry," she murmurs against his mouth, but Oliver shrugs, pulling her closer, not caring about his eye.

Her dress has gotten rucked up slightly, Oliver puts his free hand on her leg, right below where her dress ends. Felicity makes this quiet, desperate noise in the back of her throat, reaching up and curling her fingers against the back of his neck, and Oliver’s been wanting this since the moment he first saw her, in the library with her glasses and ponytail and that pen between her lips. 

Felicity’s kissing him like she can’t stop herself, her mouth wet and hot against his, her breath coming quick and shallow, and he slides his hand up under the hem of her dress, stroking his thumb up along the soft smooth skin on the inside of her thigh, and she jumps, jerking back so quickly she knocks the back of her head against the window.

“Ow,” she says, wincing and reaching up to rub her head where it hit the window. Her lips are swollen, red and wet, and he shifts in his seat.

“Sorry,” Oliver says, he feels a little dazed. His heart thudding in his chest and his skin feels hot and too-tight. “Are you okay?"

“I’m fine,” she says, shaking her head and looking embarrassed. “Sorry.” She tugs at the hem of her dress, pulling it back down from where it’s gotten pushed up around her thighs. “I’m sorry, you just surprised me and…”

“Hey,” Oliver says, quiet and serious. “You don’t need to apologize. I was moving kind of fast.”

“You weren’t the only one,” she says wryly, pressing her hand to her forehead and in that way she does sometimes when she’s embarrassed, after she’s said something rambly and inappropriate.

“Hey,” Oliver says again, and when she looks up at him, he smiles. Her cheeks are flushed, bright pink even in the dark of the car, and she is just really beautiful. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Felicity blinks. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, are you busy? I know sometimes you like to do homework on the weekends," he says, and she rolls her eyes. "But if you’re free, I was thinking maybe we could hang out.”

“Hang out?” Felicity repeats. One corner of her mouth is curled up in a smile, and it takes everything in Oliver not to leap over the console and kiss her again.

“Yeah,” Oliver says. He’s smiling so much his cheeks are starting to hurt, and it’s hard for him to believe how completely uncool he’s being right now, but he kind of doesn’t care that he’s grinning like a fool. “We can go to a movie, or get lunch, or dinner or whatever you want to do.”

Felicity quirks an eyebrow. “Are you asking me out on a date or this another 'thank you' thing?” she asks, putting air quotes around _thank you_.

Oliver rolls his eyes. “It’s a date.”

“In that case,” she says, and she’s smiling at him. “Yes.”

Oliver’s heart feels like it actually skips a beat, and he leans over, pressing a quick kiss against her lips, careful to keep his hands squarely on his side of the car. “So it’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” Felicity agrees, and she sounds almost as happy about that as he is. “Goodnight, Oliver.” She leans over and presses a kiss against his cheek, her lips warm and sweet against his skin, and he didn't even know it was possible to like someone as much as he likes her.

Oliver watches as she gets out of the car and unlocks her front door, giving him a little wave before she closes the door behind her. He’s still smiling as he pulls away from the curb, this warm, happy feeling coursing through him, and tomorrow can't come fast enough.


	10. Chapter 10

Felicity’s not sure how it happened, but suddenly she’s dating Oliver Queen.

Just a week ago, she spent an entire day in bed, devastated and heartbroken over him, and now she’s going on a second date with him in as many days. It’s a pretty quick turnaround, and she’s more than a little worried that things are moving too fast between them. 

Last night was...weird. And, okay, Felicity knew that it wasn’t just a thank you dinner, that it was a date, but for some reason, she couldn't admit it to herself. Not just that Oliver was asking her out, but that she _wanted_ him to ask her out. After what happened last weekend, she knows she should be on her guard, that what Dig told her about Oliver being careless was true, and that this is probably just going to end with her getting her heart broken all over again.

Honestly, by the time they were done with dinner last night, Felicity had decided that they should take it slow, give Oliver time to resolve everything with Laurel and Sara and Tommy and all of the other stuff he's probably dealing with after everything that happened at Tommy's party. It would be the smart move, making sure that she didn't jump right into to a situation destined for heartbreak, and if Felicity's anything, it's smart. But then Oliver kissed her and, well...it was a _really_ good kiss.

And now they’re going out on their first real, official date, so the whole moving-too-fast thing is a definite concern. Not enough of a concern to make her call it off, but still. She needs to keep it in mind, needs to remember that getting involved with Oliver is far from simple.

Despite her hesitation, she wakes up early on Saturday morning, feeling too giddy to sleep. It’s pretty ridiculous how excited she is, her heart skipping in her chest and the butterflies buzzing in her stomach. The feelings only intensify when she gets a text from Oliver letting her know her he’ll pick her up around noon. He refuses to tell her what he’s got planned for the day, just says it’s a surprise, that they’re not doing anything fancy, and that he’ll have her home before Sunday morning. She's not sure if that last part is a joke, and he refuses to tell her.

At five minutes past noon, Oliver pulls up to her house, his Porsche looking as out of place as always on her rundown street. Felicity’s been ready for over an hour, but actually lets him knock on the door this time, counting to three before she opens the door, trying to calm her nerves a little. 

”Hi,” she says, and he smiles, his whole face lighting up. He’s dressed in jeans and a green henley with a leather motorcycle jacket over it, which looks amazing on him, but doesn’t provide much in the way of clues for their plans for the day.

”Hey,” he says back. “You look amazing.”

Felicity grins, feeling her cheeks get hot. She tried on literally every item of clothing in her closet this morning, trying to decide what to wear without having any idea what they were doing to do for the day. She settled on a cheerful pink dress that she could dress up or down, remembering this time to bring a coat in case the temperature drops, and after the way Oliver's glance flickers over her appreciatively, she's feeling pretty good about her choice.

“So you’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” she asks once they’re in the car.

Oliver smiles. “We’re having dinner. You like Italian food, right?”

Felicity narrows her eyes at him in confusion. It’s way too early for dinner. “Dinner?"

“Everyone likes Italian food,” he says, sounding more like he's talking to himself than to her. He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, looking unsure. "Right?"

Felicity nods, feeling like she should reassure him despite his refusal to let her know what his plans are. "Definitely. I love Italian."

Oliver smiles at her gratefully, but then he clams up again, refusing to tell her anything else about where they’re going no matter how many questions she asks. 

And, okay, it's sweet that he's trying to surprise her, but the thing is, Felicity's not a huge fan of mysteries. So she spends the drive trying to figure it out on her own, wondering if there’s some kind of pre-dinner activity that he's got up his sleeve, a movie or something, or if maybe he's taking her to Coast City again.

He does drive them out of the city, so at least Felicity’s got that part right, but then he turns off the highway and onto a roughly paved road, and this is definitely not the way to Coast City. When he parks the car, they’re outside of an airplane hangar and there's a small plane sitting on the tarmac in front of them, gleaming white in the sunshine, the Queen Consolidated logo painted on the tail wing.

"This is an airfield,” Felicity says, just in case he’s had a stroke or something and maybe doesn’t realize where they are.

"It is." Oliver turns off the ignition, and reaches for the door handle, and, seriously, what is going on?

Felicity puts a hand on his forearm, stopping him from getting out of the car. “I thought we were going to dinner."

"Did I forget to mention the restaurant is in Central City?"

“That’s hundreds of miles from here!"

"Which is why we’re not going to drive there," Oliver says, like this should be obvious. “It would take forever.”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car, and Felicity just sits there, staring out the windshield at the plane sitting on the tarmac in front of her. Oliver opens the passenger side door, and the reaches for her hand, pulling her out of the car. "You’re not afraid of flying, are you?”

“Yes. I mean, no, I mean. I don’t think so,” Felicity says, taking a deep breath, trying to get the babbling under control before it gets away from her. “I mean, I’ve never actually been on a plane, so. I don’t know.”

Oliver tilts his head, looking confused. “Seriously?”

"My mother is a cocktail waitress,” she reminds him. “It’s not like we have a lot of extra cash lying around to go jet-setting around the country."

Oliver smiles. Has she mentioned that he's got a really great smile? “You’ll be fine.”

*

The flight to Central City turns out to be kind of fun. 

Take-off is a little terrifying, and Felicity keeps having to remind herself about the physics behind airplanes staying in the air and that whatever noises she’s hearing are probably totally normal. Even still, she reaches for Oliver’s hand, squeezing it tight as the plane leaves the runway, and he smiles at her, threading his fingers through hers, running his thumb soothingly along the back of her knuckles.

Felicity relaxes her death grip on him once they’re safely in the air, but she doesn’t let go of his hand, peering around him to look out the window as they gain altitude. It’s actually kind of pretty up here, the ground beneath them a patchwork of cities and farms and suburbs, the sky a wide blue expanse all around them.

“Still scared?” Oliver asks, his voice low and intimate in her ear.

“I wasn’t scared,” Felicity scoffs, and Oliver laughs, squeezing her hand gently. “I wasn’t! I _might_ have been a tiny bit nervous, but I wasn’t scared.”

“Good,” Oliver says, and he leans over and presses a quick kiss against her lips. "Because scared is definitely not the emotion that I'm going for tonight."

Felicity smiles against his mouth, and this is already one of the best dates of her life.

*

The restaurant Oliver brings her to is surprisingly low-key, nothing like their dinner last night at Table Salt, with its huge crowds and its intimidatingly fancy menu.

Instead, it’s just a little hole-in-the-wall Italian place, all dark wood, the tables crowded together in a too-small space. It’s got a great view, though, just across the street from the river, and they sit at a tiny table near the window with a view of the shore. Their knees keep bumping under the table, and it’s warm and cozy, the buzz of conversation and the spicy smell of the tomato sauce and the dim lighting from the small candle in a glass holder between them.

The food is amazing, and the candlelight makes Oliver’s skin glow, warm and golden, and he looks happier and more relaxed than Felicity’s ever seen him, his sleeves rolled up and his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. Felicity spends most of dinner staring at the hollow of his throat, imagining kissing him there, thinking about the salt-slick taste of his skin, and she honestly can't believe how much she wants him right now. 

Felicity manages to make it through dinner without leaping across the table and ravishing him, and, afterwards, they go for a walk along the shore, heading out onto pier. It’s a cool enough night that it’s mostly deserted, and Oliver and Felicity hold hands as the stroll to the edge of the dock. The sun is setting over the water and Oliver keeps sneaking these little glances at her, and the whole thing is such a romantic cliché that Felicity can hardly stand it.

Of course, it doesn’t help that, when they get to the end of the dock, Oliver presses her back against the railing, sliding one arm around her waist and cupping his other hand against her jaw, stroking the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone. He kisses her a little desperately, sweeping his tongue along her lower lip until she opens her mouth under his, kissing him back just as hungrily. 

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to get the words out, his breath warm against her lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that since we stopped doing that yesterday,” she confesses, and he laughs lightly, breath puffing against her cheek. He leans down just as she moves up to kiss him again, her nose colliding with his bruised cheekbone.

He winces, and she pulls away just enough to look at his face. The bruise around his eye is starting to turn a sickly greenish-yellow around the edges, which Felicity knows means it’s healing, but it still looks awful.

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened?" she asks, not sure why she’s pushing this, why it bothers her so much, him refusing to talk about it.

He makes a frustrated noise and leans forward, pressing his forehead against the top of her shoulder and she can feel the heat of his breath against her skin, the contrast between his warmth and the cool of the air making her shiver.

“Oliver,” she says softly. It’s just...if there’s any chance of this being real, of this being more than just some mutual crush thing, they’re going to have to start talking to each other about stuff other than chemical equations and trig functions.

Oliver doesn’t say anything, just steps back, moving so he’s standing next to her, his elbows braced on the railing as he stares out over the river. “We got into a fight,” he finally says. He sounds very tired.

“About Laurel,” Felicity says quietly, remembering what he said the other day when he blew up at her. Without him in front of her, she feels cold, and she wraps her arms around herself. She wonders if she’ll ever get over it, the horrible way she feels whenever she thinks about Laurel, about Oliver and Laurel being together, about how maybe she and Oliver are moving way too fast considering he just broke up with his long-time girlfriend in a fairly traumatic way. She wishes she could just let it go, but she can’t, just keeps thinking about it, like pressing on a bruise that she refuses to let heal.

“It wasn’t just about Laurel.” He reaches up and scrubs a hand across his face, wincing when he touches his eye. “Or maybe it was. I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s intriguingly vague,” she says lightly, turning around and mirroring his stance, forearms on the railing, looking out across the water. The sun is starting to set, making the water sparkle, spots of orange glimmering on top of the blue.

He sighs again. “Tommy thinks I’m being selfish. With a lot of things, I guess, but especially where Laurel’s concerned.”

“Oh.”

“And he’s probably right, but I’m trying not to be,” Oliver says, glancing at her sidelong. "I’m trying to do the right thing, even though I’m really bad at it. And Tommy of all people should get that. He’s my best friend, and I’ve known him forever. He’s practically a brother to me. But he just...he’s being unreasonable about this thing with Laurel, like I hurt her on purpose. Which I didn’t. I just...I didn’t know how to handle it -- being with Laurel, but wanting to be with you. But I know I messed up. There’s no reason for Tommy to keep reminding me.”

“So why did he hit you?” Felicity prods, trying to ignore the feeling guilt about how she factors into all of this, how Oliver's life is more complicated mostly because of her. “I mean, I get that he’s upset because he’s friends with Laurel, too, but the whole punching you in the face thing seems a little extreme."

Oliver shrugs one shoulder, looking down at his feet. “I don’t know. He just went off on me.”

“Totally unprovoked?”

Oliver shrugs again, looking uncomfortable. “I might have said something about him getting his own life and not being so invested in mine. That it was a little pathetic, how he was always wanting to be around my family, my girlfriend. That it wasn’t my problem that he doesn’t have anyone who cares about him.”

“Oliver!”

“I know,” he groans. "I’m an asshole.”

Felicity doesn’t disagree, because what he said to Tommy was really terrible. “Have you talked to him since then?”

“No,” he admits. “He probably just needs space to cool off. Besides, I saw him and Laurel at lunch on Friday, the two of them looked pretty cozy, so...”

“Meaning what?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. Just...Tommy seemed really quick to take Laurel’s side is all.”

He’s looking out over the water, his hands clenched into fists and a muscle in his jaw ticking, and...oh. Of course. That makes sense. He and Laurel were together for almost a year and they’ve barely been broken up for a week and Felicity gets it, that he might not be as okay with all of this as he’s acting like he is. It’s a terrible feeling, this realization that this might be nothing more than a fling, a rebound, but it’s probably better that she knows that now, before she lets herself get in too deep, feel too much for someone who might not stick around.

“You know, if you need some time…” Felicity starts, not sure what exactly she wants to say. Today has been great -- better than great, amazing really -- but she doesn’t want to start something that Oliver’s not ready for and it’s probably better to end it now, before either one of them really gets attached. “I mean, if you still have feelings for Laurel, or even if you _think_ you still might have feelings for Laurel, we should stop this now, before something happens between us. I mean, not that something hasn’t already happened, since last night in front of my house was definitely something, but --” 

“Felicity,” Oliver says, cutting her off, and when she finally looks over at him, he’s he looks like he’s trying not to smile, his lips pursed and his eyes crinkled up at the corners. “I don’t need more time. I don’t need anything. Except you.”

“Oh,” Felicity says, and it honestly feels like he’s taken her breath away.

Apparently the romantic clichés aren’t anywhere close to being over.

*

On the flight home, Felicity holds his hand again, forgoing the whole terrified death-grip thing and instead just loosely threading her fingers through his, their palms pressed together. He’s got really nice hands, his fingers long and graceful, and she definitely doesn't think inappropriate thoughts about what those hands could do. 

Instead, she rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and feeling herself start to drift off, Oliver’s body warm and solid and comforting beneath her cheek.

He presses a kiss against the crown of her head and Felicity smiles sleepily, wrapping her hand around his upper as she nestles closer to him.

It’s been a really good day.

*

All in all, it’s a pretty amazing weekend. Oliver comes over on Sunday to watch a movie while Felicity’s mom is at work, but mostly they just end up making out on the couch, and Felicity’s pretty sure she’s never going to get tired of kissing him.

She knows that part of this is probably just because it’s so new, and everything’s still really exciting and fun, but it’s different than it’s ever been with anyone else. Not that Felicity’s got a ton of experience -- there was Cooper and Barry and that's pretty much it -- but this thing with Oliver just feels different, more intense, but more real somehow, too. It’s great, but part of her is still a little scared, still worried that it can’t last. They were in their own little bubble this weekend, outside of Starling City all day on Saturday and ensconced in her house on Sunday, but once they’re back at school, Felicity knows it’s going to be more complicated. 

Plus, they haven’t actually talked about their relationship, haven’t defined anything except that she likes Oliver and he likes her and they _really_ like the whole making out with each other thing. But once she’s back at school, there’s going to be a lot more to it than that -- there's Sara and Laurel and Oliver’s friends and Felicity’s friends and it’s just…it’s kind of overwhelming to think about. 

But when she gets to school on Monday and sees Oliver in first period, she can’t help it when the happiness takes over, blooming in her chest, blocking out all the bad stuff, the messy and complicated possibilities. And then they get their midterm exams back, and Oliver’s has _75%: C_ scrawled across the top in bright red marker, and Felicity’s even happier about that than she is about her own perfect score on the exam. 

Really, the day goes about a hundred times better than she thought it would, Oliver sending her a text during fifth period to tell her he squeaked by with C on his calculus test and then telling her he'll meet her in the library after he’s done with football practice.

Felicity’s basically on cloud nine, happier than she’s ever been, and then she walks into the library after school on Monday, but instead of her new tutoring assignment, Oliver’s mom is there and her stomach just drops.

“What are you doing here?” Felicity blurts out. Mrs. Queen crosses her arms over her chest and raises one eyebrow, looking taken aback. Felicity shakes her head, trying to get her bearings. “Sorry. I mean: Hi, Mrs. Queen. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Felicity,” she says. “And, as for what I’m doing here, I am here to thank you.”

“For what?”

“Mr. Steele has informed me that Oliver has passed all of his exams, and I suspect that has a great deal to do with your assistance.”

“Oh,” Felicity says. And it’s not that she doesn’t appreciate Mrs. Queen dropping by to thank her, but to be honest, it’s a little weird. Oliver’s mom just makes her uncomfortable, like she's constantly judging her and Felicity’s always coming up wanting. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Oliver did it all on his own. I just kind of...kept him focused.”

“Yes, well, keeping Oliver’s attention focused is a rather impressive feat in and of itself,” Mrs. Queen says dryly. "Which is why I’d like to make you an offer.”

“An offer?” Felicity repeats, confused.

“I’ve spoken to Oliver’s father, and we’ve agreed that it would be a good idea for Oliver to continue his study sessions with you after school.”

“But he has football practice."

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Mrs. Queen says, in this tone like Felicity’s an idiot for thinking that Moira doesn’t know what Oliver is doing every minute of every day. "Which is why we would like to hire you as Oliver’s private tutor.”

“His private tutor?”

“You and Oliver will meet twice a week at our house, after he is done with football practice and after you have finished your duties here.” The way Mrs.Queen says it, it’s like it’s already a done deal, like Felicity’s already agreed to this. “You will, of course, be compensated for your time.”

Felicity blinks. “You want to pay me to tutor Oliver?”

“I realize you are currently tutoring in the hopes it will look good on your college application -- MIT, isn’t it?” Mrs. Queen says, and Felicity just nods. “And while I know you are hoping to earn a scholarship, I’m sure you also realize there are additional costs with attending college. Especially one located across the country.”

“I do.” Because, yeah, going to MIT is going to be expensive, even if she gets a full ride. It’s something Felicity’s thought about obsessively for at least the past few years, how she’s going to afford to move across the country and live in Boston and basically survive without going into crushing debt.

"Then I think we can both agree that this is a beneficial arrangement for both of us,” Mrs. Queen says, even though Felicity’s not so sure. She knows Oliver’s mom probably isn’t a bad person, but there’s something about her that Felicity doesn’t trust. “I’ve already spoken to Mr. Steele and he’s assured me that this would in no way interfere with your current after school activities.”

“Okay,” Felicity says, not sure how she feels about Oliver's mom talking to Principal Steele about Felicity's schedule.

“There is, of course, the matter of payment and your desired rate.”

“Um.” All of this is just happening very, very fast, and Mrs. Queen is very intimidating, with her expensive clothes and her haughty demeanor and her complete disregard for Felicity’s confusion.

“As I said, twice a week -- Mondays and Wednesdays, if that works for your schedule -- for two hours each day. I think a rate of $125 an hour would be fair, don’t you?”

Felicity just stares at her. A hundred and twenty-five dollars an hour would be $500 a week. For four hours of work, which means she wouldn't have to give up any of her current extracurriculars. There is absolutely no way she can pass that up. Plus, she’s going to be paid to spend time with Oliver. It’s basically perfect. So: “Yeah, yes, yes ma’am, I mean, Mrs. Queen. Yes,” Felicity babbles. “That sounds very fair.”

“Wonderful,” Mrs. Queen says. “You can start today. Do you have a car?”

Felicity blinks. “A car?”

“Yes, Miss Smoak,” she says. “Transportation to get to our house?”

“Oh,” Felicity says, crestfallen. “No...I…”

“Oliver will drive you,” Mrs. Queen tells her, waving her hand through the air as if this isn’t an issue at all. “And one of our drivers will take you home.”

“One of your drivers?” Felicity repeats, feeling a little dazed. This can't really be happening, right? There's no way Moira Queen is basically handing Felicity everything she wants -- a chance to see Oliver regularly, money for MIT, the easiest part time job in the history of forever. It all just seems too good to be true.

“We’ll discuss it after your session today,” she says dismissively, already heading for the door. When she gets there, she turns around, and there’s this almost-smile on her face that makes Felicity nervous."Oh, and Felicity?” 

“Yes?"

"I’m sure this goes without saying, but since I’ll be paying you for your time, I expect that your relationship with Oliver will remain…professional.” Mrs. Queen is watching her closely, her eyes hard. “That won’t be a problem, will it?"

Felicity just shakes her head, an awful feeling settling into the pit of her stomach. “No, Mrs. Queen," she finally manages, and Oliver's mother smiles, cold and knowing. "No problem at all." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not responding to comments on the last chapter :/ This past week has been kind of hectic, and it came down to either posting tonight and not answering comments, or answering comments tonight and posting tomorrow instead, and I came down on the side of posting the chapter earlier rather than later. Hopefully, everyone's cool with that :)
> 
> But I appreciate each and every one of the comments you all leave, and I really want to thank everyone who has commented on this story in any way, shape, or form, so: Thank you so much!! Your comments are amazing and keep me going and there's no way I would have made it this far in the story without all of your feedback and support and general awesomeness <3


	11. Chapter 11

Oliver’s first day back at practice is not great. He’s rusty after two weeks off, especially since he spent most of that time focused on Felicity and very little of it actually thinking about football or preparing to get back on the field.

It also doesn’t help that Tommy’s being a dick, going after Oliver on every play, charging him as soon as Diggle snaps the ball.

“What the hell, man?” Oliver finally yells after the third time Tommy levels him, slamming his shoulder into Oliver’s chest at least five seconds after he throws the ball, blindsiding him. He hits the ground hard, his head snapping painfully against the turf, the wind knocked out of him. “That was a cheap shot.”

“It was clean hit,” Tommy tells him. He’s out of breath, his chest heaving and his face red and sweaty. “Maybe you’ve just been off the field too long.”

Oliver pushes himself to his feet, getting right up in Tommy’s personal space, the two of them standing chest-to-chest. Tommy’s eyes flare, but then Diggle’s there, steeping between the two of them, putting a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “Let it go, man.”

Oliver stares at Tommy for a few beats, the anger building inside of him, but Dig flexes his hand on Oliver’s shoulder, like he can read Oliver’s mind, and it’s not painful or anything, but it’s enough to snap Oliver out of it, and he forces himself to take a breath, to relax a little, his shoulders slumping under Dig’s hand.

“Yeah,” he finally says, looking at Dig, not at Tommy. As he gets back into position, he bumps his shoulder purposefully into Tommy’s chest hard enough that Tommy stumbles back a couple of steps. Oliver smirks, and Tommy lunges at him, Dig stepping between them again.

“Merlyn!” Coach Wilson shouts. “You and Queen can continue your lover’s spat on your own time. Get your ass back on defense!” Tommy glares at him, but jogs back over to the other side of the field, and Oliver takes a deep breath, trying to calm down.

The rest of the practice plays out pretty much the same, Tommy going after him, Diggle trying to keep the two of them from beating the hell out of each other right there on the practice field.

At least the rest of the team seems happier to see Oliver, clapping him on the back and high-fiving him and telling them they’re glad he’s back. He’s not sure who’s more relieved to see him, Roy or Coach Wilson. He was a little worried there’d be some pushback from Roy, but instead the kid seems almost desperately grateful to hand the QB position back to Oliver. And Coach Wilson almost smiled when Oliver first showed up on the field, his one good eye practically twinkling as Oliver jogged out of the locker room.

But after the first hour of watching Oliver miss his receivers and get leveled by Tommy, Coach Wilson starts to look less happy and more annoyed, and even puts Roy in on a couple of plays, making Oliver stand on the sidelines and watch the kid hit the throws Oliver kept screwing up.

Luckily, this week’s game should be cake -- they’re playing South, who hasn’t won a game all season -- but next week is the Homecoming game against Blüdhaven. It’s going to be the toughest game of the season, and Oliver doesn’t know how he’s going to do it if Tommy’s still pissed at him and he keeps overthrowing the ball on every pass.

Honestly, the only way Oliver gets through it is by thinking about Felicity, how blue her eyes are behind her glasses, the way she always looks kind of amazed when he kisses her, the soft, smooth feel of her skin. And no matter how much things suck right now with Tommy and football and all of the other stuff he used to care about, he knows pretty soon he’ll be able to see Felicity and somehow that just makes everything else not matter so much.

*

When Oliver gets to the library after practice, Felicity’s there, sitting at one of the tables, staring at an open book on the table in front of her and chewing on her thumbnail. She must be pretty focused on whatever she’s doing because doesn’t look up when he walks in, but just the sight of her makes him feel better, looser and lighter, somehow, all that stuff with Tommy not weighing on him so much.

“Hey,” he says, and she starts, jumping in her seat like she didn’t know he was there. She looks panicked to see him, not happy, and suddenly that loose, light feeling vanishes. “You okay?”

“Your mother was here,” Felicity says immediately. She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears, but the way the light is hitting her glasses it’s hard to see her eyes, so he can’t tell for sure.

“Hey,” he says again, deciding to wait until he knows what his mother said to her before he decides how mad he is at his mom. “Tell me what happened.”

“She hired me to be your private tutor,” Felicity tells him, her voice hitching slightly. “Mondays and Wednesdays at your house after football practice.”

“Wait,” Oliver says, confused. “Isn’t this a good thing?”

“I thought it was,” Felicity says. “But then, right before she left, she said since she was paying me, my relationship with you needed to stay ‘professional’.”

Oliver clenches his jaw. “And what did you say?”

“I said okay,” Felicity says, sounding miserable. “Well, I didn’t say okay, exactly but...I don’t know. Your mom is pretty terrifying, and she blindsided me, and before I could really register what had happened and what I had agreed to, she was gone.”

Oliver grits his teeth, trying not to show how upset he is. He doesn’t want Felicity to think he’s mad at her — he’s actually kind of impressed that she’s gone toe-to-toe with his mother more than once and came out more or less unscathed — but he has no idea why his mother insists on interfering with his life. So: “Who cares what my mom says?” 

“She’s right, though.”

“What do you mean, she’s right?”

“Your parents are are going to be paying me to spend time with you,” Felicity says. "If I’m...I mean, if we’re…you know, doing stuff, then I’m basically a prostitute.”

He laughs before he can stop himself. “Felicity,” he says, trying not to smile because of the way she’s glaring at him. “You’re not a prostitute.”

“I am if I’m getting paid $125 an hour to make out with you!”

“So tell her you changed your mind,” Oliver says with a shrug. Seriously, he doesn’t get why this is such a huge deal. If you ask him, his mom did them a favor, but if it’s causing this much stress for Felicity, it’s a simple enough fix. “That you don’t want to do it anymore.”

Felicity bites her lip, looking conflicted. “I’m trying to save money for college,” she tells him. “And what your mom is offering...it’s a lot. I’ve actually been thinking about getting a part-time job next semester, but to make as much money as your parents are going to pay me, I’d have to work a lot more hours, and I wouldn’t get to see you as much.” Her eyes go wide, and she shakes her head, pressing the palm of her hand against her forehead. “Not that we’re going to be together next semester,” she adds quickly. “Or that we’re not going to be together next semester. That’s a long time from now, obviously. Not that I don’t want to be with you for a long time, or that I do want to be with you for a long time. What I mean is--”

“Felicity,” he interrupts, smiling at her, reaching down to take her hands in his. She looks up at him over the top of her glasses, still worrying her lip. Her palms are slightly sweaty, and he thinks it’s actually kind of adorable, how nervous she is right now. He guesses maybe his mom is a lot more intimidating when you haven’t spent 17 years thinking of ways to get around all her rules.

“Yeah?”

“Take the job.”

Felicity’s face falls. “But what about us?”

Oliver shrugs, brushing his thumbs across the top of her knuckles. “My mother isn’t paying you every second of every day, right?”

“Right,” Felicity confirms, but she still looks upset. “Just four hours a week.”

“So for those four hours, we’ll remain _professional,_ ” he tells her. “But when my parents are _not_ paying you…” He leans forward and presses a kiss against her jaw, smiling against her skin when she shivers under his touch.

“I’m not sure your mom is going to go for that,” Felicity says, but she sounds distracted and a little breathless, not nearly as upset as she was a few seconds ago.

“So she doesn’t have to know,” Oliver mumbles against her skin, trailing kisses up her jaw. “We’ll be...discreet.”

“Discreet around just her?” Felicity says, the last word practically a gasp. “Or around everyone?”

Oliver shrugs again, because he really doesn’t care, he’s way more interested in running his tongue along the soft skin of Felicity’s throat, hearing the way her breath catches as she angles her neck to give him better access. “We’ll figure it out.”

Felicity hums, ducking her head kiss him on the lips, opening her mouth under his, doing that little gasp thing she does when he nips gently at her lower lip. Oliver tugs her closer to him, practically dragging her onto his lap, her legs warm and smooth and against his. 

“We should probably get going,” Felicity mumbles, but she’s sliding her hand across the back of his neck, her fingernails scraping lightly along his skin, which slightly undermines her point. “Your mother is going to wonder where we are.”

"Please stop talking about my mother,” he begs her, snaking one arm around her waist to hold her closer to him. She makes a quiet noise that he thinks might be a laugh, and then she’s shifting his lap, kissing him again, and his mind pretty much goes blank as the blood rushes to other parts of his body. 

They’re still making out when Oliver’s phone buzzes some time later. He ignores it, his mind on Felicity and the fact that she’s basically straddling him, her mouth hot and wet under his, but then Felicity pulls away, turning around to snag his phone off the table.

She hands it to him and he groans when he sees the screen, his mom’s picture on the display. Fuuuuuck.

“You have to answer,” Felicity tells him. She sounds kind of breathless, but he’s not sure if it’s from kissing him or because she’s panicked about his mother calling. He suspects it’s probably a little of both. 

Oliver sighs and presses talk, mostly because he knows Felicity will be upset if he doesn’t. “Hi, mom,” he says, and Felicity stands up, moving away from him and straightening her clothes, and, ugh, this just really, really sucks.

*

The two hours they spend at his house that afternoon are an exercise in frustration. 

His mother suggests they study in the kitchen or in his dad’s office, suggestions Oliver blithely ignores, leading Felicity upstairs to his bedroom instead. Felicity follows him, looking nervous, and she insists that they keep the door to his room open so his mom doesn’t think they’re up to anything. She also refuses to sit with him on the bed, going straight to his desk instead an pulling out her books, getting straight to work talking about some boring math thing he barely understands.

As much as he doesn’t like it — Felicity being all business even though she’s in his bedroom — Oliver has to admit it’s probably the smart move. Especially because his mother stops by almost a dozen times, being completely obvious about the fact she’s checking up on them, no matter how many excuses she comes up with, like there’s absolutely no other time she can confirm with Oliver he’ll be able to attend some dressage event of Thea's in three weeks.

And, okay, it shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s just a couple of hours and he still gets to spend time with Felicity. The problem is, he doesn’t want to just spend time with her. For the past two weeks, he’s spent time with her, talked to her about calculus and chemistry and Hamlet, but now he can do more than that — can touch her and kiss her and actually be with her — and he can’t stop thinking about that.

It doesn’t help that Felicity seems completely fine with the whole professional thing, diligently focusing on what little homework he has and purposefully moving away from him whenever he tries to get close to her. Plus, she’s taken off her blazer and kicked off her shoes, one leg tucked underneath her as she sits at his desk, and she looks so casual and at home in his room that it does something funny to his heart, making it beat weirdly fast in his chest. It’s really distracting and the whole thing is totally unfair.

It feels like it did that first week, when he liked her but couldn’t do anything about it, could barely admit it to himself. But it’s about a million times worse because now he knows how soft the skin on her legs is, right where it meets her skirt, and how good she tastes, like lipgloss and cherries. He spends most of the time staring at her, not listening to a word she’s saying, just thinking about a couple of hours before when they were in the library, the way she was practically straddling him while they made out, and eventually he has to pull one of his pillows into his lap to keep from completely embarrassing himself. 

By they time the two hours are up, Oliver feels like he might crawl right out his skin from wanting to touch her. Felicity’s doing the whole professional thing, shrugging back into her blazer and sliding her shoes back on before she grabs her backpack and slings it over her shoulders, but when he puts his hand on the small of her back to guide her out of the room, he doesn’t miss the way her breath catches in her throat, her eyes dark as she looks over at him. 

His mother has apparently found someone else to terrorize or annoy, which is the only reason Oliver and Felicity almost manage to make it out of the house unnoticed before she appears again, watching with dismay as Oliver pulls on his coat.

“Where are you going?” she says, and Felicity takes an immediate step away from him.

Oliver grits his teeth, clenching his fist as he drops his hand back down to his side. “I’m driving Felicity home."

“Oh, I’m sure one of the drivers can do that.” His mother waves her hand dismissively, but she’s staring at Felicity with a hard expression, one that makes Oliver’s shoulders go tense. He really doesn’t get what his mom’s problem is. You’d think she’d be thrilled that he was interested in Felicity; she’s smart and she’s nice and she’s basically perfect.

“I’m on my way out anyway,” he lies easily, pocketing his keys.

“Oh,” his mother says, crossing her arms over her chest and arching one eyebrow. “Where are you going?”

Oliver glances at Felicity for help, but she’s looking at his mom not at him, a slightly terrified expression on her face. So he says the first thing that comes to mind: “To Tommy’s house.”

His mother blinks. “You two have made up?”

“Sort of,” Oliver hedges, not wanting this to drag out any more. “I mean, that’s why I’m going over there. To talk to him.”

“Well.” His mom glances between him and Felicity, like she’s trying to think up another tactic. She must not come up with anything because she finally just says, “Dinner will be on the table at eight. Feel free to bring Tommy along."

“Will do,” Oliver assures her, and then he puts his hand on the small of Felicity’s back again, directing her out of the house. 

“Are you actually going to Tommy’s?” Felicity asks once they’re on the road. Oliver has the radio turned low and his hand resting on Felicity’s knee and he just wishes things could be this easy all the time. 

Oliver shrugs. “Yes. No. I don’t know. He’s still mad at me."

“Sounds like the whole giving him space thing maybe isn’t working,” Felicity offers.

Oliver huffs out a breath. The truth is, he and Tommy have never fought for this long, and he has no idea how to deal with it. He really thought it would have blown over by now, but judging by how Tommy acted at practice today, he’s still pissed. “Yeah,” Oliver admits. “I just wish I knew what to do."

“Do what you said you were going to do,” Felicity says. “Go over there and talk to him."

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?” Oliver says, his voice coming out a lot quieter than he means for it to, so quiet he’s surprised Felicity can hear him. He and Tommy have never been in a fight this long, and it’s even worse because Oliver doesn’t totally understand why Tommy was so mad at him in the first place. 

Felicity reaches down, putting her hand over his where it’s resting on her knee, crooking her fingers through his. “He’ll want to talk to you,” she assures him, and he wishes he was as confident about it as she seems to be.

*

When they get to her house, there are lights on inside and the curtains in the front widow are open. Oliver puts the car in park, and leans over the console, confused when Felicity leans back, putting her hand on his chest, holding him back. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. He’s still got his hand on her leg, right above her knee, her skin warm and soft and smooth beneath his fingers.

“My mom’s home."

“So?"

“So, I thought we were being discreet."

“That’s in front of my mother. I doubt yours will care if we’re not acting professional."

“Oh, she’ll care,” Felicity says. “She’ll probably throw a party and rent a billboard and tell every single person she’s ever met that I finally have a boyfriend,” she groans, tipping her head back against the seat. She sits up again almost immediately, her eyes wide behind her glasses. "Not that you’re my boyfriend,” she add quickly. "I mean, I know we haven’t talked about that or anything, I just mean how my mom would see it, which obviously isn’t how you see it, or don’t see it, or how I see it, for that matter. Not that I don’t want you to be my boyfriend, because I really do...and I am definitely going to stop talking now."

Oliver grins, he’s pretty sure the whole rambling thing is his favorite thing about her. He strokes his thumb along the inside of her knee, and she makes this soft, encouraging noise in the back of her throat, and okay, maybe _that’s_ his favorite thing about her. 

He leans in again, but she puts her hand on his chest again, and he groans. “I’m sorry,” she says miserably.

“It’s fine,” Oliver says, but he huffs out a heavy sigh, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He gets that she’s worried about what’s going to happen if his mom finds out, but it sucks that even though he’s spent a ton of time with her today, she’s been keeping him at arm’s length for most of it. “I’m just…frustrated."

“I know, and I am sorry.” Felicity slides her hand under his, lifting it off her leg, and threading her fingers through his. “But we’ll figure it out."

Oliver just nods miserably in response. Felicity bites her lip, turning her head to glance out the window towards her house before leaning quickly across the console, pressing a soft kiss against his mouth. “Thanks for the ride,” she says, and then before he can try to convince her to say a little bit longer, she’s getting out of the car, walking towards the house. Oliver waits until she gets inside, and then he sighs, putting the car in gear and heading for Tommy’s.

*

Normally, Oliver doesn’t even bother knocking at Tommy’s house, but tonight he does, rapping with his knuckles and then standing out on the expansive porch, waiting to see if Tommy’s going to open the door or just ignore him, pretend like Oliver’s not out there.

He waits a minute, and then knocks again, harder this time, practically pounding on the wood. Even if Tommy’s not home, someone from the staff should be, and the fact that no one’s coming to the door is starting to piss him off, like Tommy’s told everyone in the house not to open the door for Oliver. 

He’s raising his hand to knock again, when suddenly the door swings open and Tommy’s there, glaring at Oliver, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Hey,” Oliver says, surprised. His hand is still hovering in the air, ready to knock again.

“What are you doing here, Oliver?” Tommy sounds annoyed, and he’s standing so that he’s blocking Oliver from coming in to the house, and Oliver’s just suddenly really tired of this whole thing.

“Can I come in?"

“Why?”

Oliver sighs, his shoulders slumping. This whole situation sucks and he’s not sure if he’s more mad at himself or at Tommy, but he knows they can’t keep going like this forever. “I’m sorry about what I said to you,” Oliver tells him. “I was a dick, and I didn’t mean it."

Tommy blinks. “You’re apologizing?” He relaxes slightly, uncrossing his arms and pushing the door open a little more, enough so that Oliver can see past him into the house.

“I’m trying,” Oliver admits. “Just…can I please come inside?"

Tommy just stares at him for a few beats, but then he must come to a decision because he stands back, opening the door wider, and Oliver feels like a huge weight has been lifted off his chest, his whole body lighter as he follows Tommy inside. 

The house is as quiet as it normally is during the week, when Malcolm’s gone, and Oliver remembers what Felicity said about it being kind of sad that Tommy’s in this huge house all alone. 

“So?” Tommy says, leading him into the living room. There’s a movie playing on the television with sound muted, Vin Diesel and The Rock silently beating the hell out of each other. “You were saying something about how you’re a dick."

Oliver rolls his eyes. “I said I _was_ a dick, and also that I was sorry. That stuff I said…” he trails off, but Tommy doesn’t say anything, doesn’t jump in to help him out and Oliver sighs. “That stuff wasn’t true. You’ve got a lot of people who care about you and love you and want you around."

“Oh yeah?” Tommy says and, man, he is really not making this easy. “Like who?"

Oliver shrugs, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Lots of people, you. I mean…” Oliver stops, feeling like an idiot. He’s not really a share your feelings kind of guy, but maybe Felicity was right about talking to Tommy, maybe if Tommy’s ever going to forgive him, Oliver needs to go all out. So: “I mean, I love you,” he says. “And I’ve missed you and—"

“Ollie,” Tommy interrupts him, putting his hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “Let me stop you right there. Listen, I get that you’re probably really lonely now that you’re not with Laurel, maybe the nights are getting a little long, but I’m just not interested in you like that, man."

Oliver laughs, surprised, and Tommy grins.

“I mean, I appreciate the sentiment, don’t get me wrong..."

“Shut the hell up, Tommy.” Oliver shoves Tommy away from him, and Tommy laughs even harder. “You got any plans for tonight?"

“I told you, Ollie, I’m not into you like that."

Oliver rolls his eyes. “My mother wants you to come to the house for dinner," he says. "And please say yes because she’s been on my ass all day."

“About what?” Tommy asks reaching down to grab the remote off the coffee table, flicking off the TV, which is a pretty good sign as far as dinner is concerned. 

“Nothing,” he lies, not saying anything about him and Felicity. Not just because of the discreet thing, but because he’s very aware that he and Tommy still haven’t talked about anything that went down at his party last weekend. “You know how she gets."

“Right,” Tommy says, leading Oliver back to the front door. “I’m sorry too, by the way. For the whole punching you in the face thing."

“Forget about it,” Oliver shrugs. Tommy’s not mad at him anymore, and it just doesn’t seem worth it get into a whole thing about Laurel and all the stupid things Oliver’s done lately. It’s all in the past, anyway, and if Tommy doesn’t want to bring it up, then he’s not going to either. 

*

The next day, Oliver wakes up late, sleeping right through his alarm. After dinner, he and Tommy hung out for a couple hours and then he talked to Felicity on the phone and then after they talked, they texted for a while and by the time he managed to actually get to bed, it was after midnight. And then he had this amazing dream about Felicity, which meant he spent a very long time in the shower, trying to get it out of his system. 

By the time he finally manages to get dressed and out of the house, he's extremely late. The drive to school is actually pretty quick, probably since most everyone else is already where they’re supposed to be.

Oliver spends the whole time thinking about Felicity, and by the time he gets to school, he knows there’s no way he’s going to be able to sit quietly behind in her in chemistry, smelling her shampoo and looking at the delicate slope of her neck. So instead of going to class, he veers off a few doors before the chemistry lab, ducking into a supply closet that he knows from experience is usually open and empty. 

He tests the lock to make sure it works and then pulls out his phone, the screen bright in the darkness. _Ask Ms. Lewis for a hall pass,_ he texts to Felicity, hoping like hell she doesn’t have her phone on silent.

It only takes a couple of minutes before his phone buzzes in his hand. _Class started 20 min ago. Where are you?_

_I’ll explain when you get the pass_

_How am I supposed to get a pass?_

Argh. Oliver groans, tipping his head back against the shelves. For someone as brilliant as she is, Felicity has a frustrating inability to come up with good cover stories. _Idk say you need to go to the bathroom or something,_ he texts back.

It only takes a couple of seconds before she responds: _ok._

He waits for Felicity to text him back once she has the pass, leaning agains the shelves of cleaning products, his stomach flipping in anticipation. Finally, his phone buzzes.

_Now what?_

Oliver opens the door and sees Felicity standing in the empty hallway right outside of their chemistry classroom, looking down at her phone. He glances the other direction, making sure they’re alone and then turns back to her. “Psst,” he says, just loud enough for her to hear him.

Felicity looks up at Oliver, her forehead crinkled in confusion. He gestures for her to come to him, and she does, slipping her phone into her pocket and looking unsure.

“What are we--" Felicity starts, but Oliver kisses her before she has a chance to finish whatever it was she was going to say. She makes a startled squeak of surprise, but then she kisses him back, pressing her body flush against his

Oliver kisses her until he starts to feel a light-headed, out of breath. "Hi," he says, pulling back just enough to talk to her. "I missed you."

Felicity smiles against his mouth. "I missed you too," she says, and then adds: "But...the janitor's closet?” She sounds doubtful, but she’s a little out of breath and her body is still pressed against him, and he honestly doesn’t care where they are right now, as long as she keeps touching him.

"I’ve been thinking about you all morning, and unless you want me to ravish you in front of Ms. Lewis and everyone else in the room, the janitor’s closet is our best option right now." 

“Oh," Felicity says, all breathless and her eyes are wide and dark, pupils blown wide, and she keeps looking at his mouth.

When she kisses him again, all intensity and desperation and want, Oliver guesses he’s maybe not the only one who’s been frustrated by this spending time together but not touching each other thing. After a little while, Felicity slides one hand under his jacket, snaking it up under his shirt where it’s gotten untucked, pressing her palm flat against his back, right above his belt, and Oliver makes a really embarrassing moaning sound. Felicity smiles against his mouth and moves her hand over to his side, right above his hip, her thumb stroking the sensitive skin on his stomach in this way that’s driving him crazy.

Her body is warm and soft against his, and he moves his hand forward, his fingers brushing against her collarbone. Oliver drops his hand lower, going slow, and Felicity arches against him, making a quiet noise of encouragement as he flicks open the first two buttons on her shirt then skates his hand lower, over the soft swell of her chest, his fingers brushing up against the soft, silky fabric of her bra. Felicity's heart is pounding under his hand, and she flexes her fingers against his side, pressing her hips into his, and Christ, everything about her is just so amazing. 

He’s not sure if she pulls him back or if he nudges her forward, but suddenly they’re bumping against something and there’s a crash, a cluster of mops and brooms clattering to the floor behind them, and they jump apart, startled, both of them breathing heavy.

Oliver’s eyes have adjusted to the dim light in the closet, and Felicity looks a little dazed, her glasses askew and her shirt untucked and half unbuttoned, and there’s no way he’s going to be able to make it through the rest of the day without doing this again.


	12. Chapter 12

Felicity’s never been in a secret relationship before, and the truth is, it’s a little exhausting. Don’t get her wrong, it’s definitely fun. But it’s really tiring, too.

Afternoons at Oliver’s house are the worst since there’s the most risk there. If they get caught at school, it might be a little weird, but it won’t be a huge deal. If they get caught at Oliver’s house, well...Felicity doesn’t like to think about that too much. Mostly because Oliver’s mother is legitimately terrifying and even if Oliver’s not scared of his mom, Felicity is. She really doesn’t want to be a person that crosses Moira Queen; there’s no way that ends well.

So when she’s at Oliver’s house for tutoring, Felicity tries really hard to keep things professional between them, just like she told his mother she would. Which would be a lot easier if he didn’t insist on trying to get as close to her as possible. He was pretty good on Monday, staying over on his bed while she worked at his desk, but on Wednesday, he sits at the desk too, close enough that they kept touching every time one of them moves. It makes it almost impossible for her to focus on the chemical diagrams she’s trying to teach him how to draw, which is a pretty big problem since they have a quiz tomorrow and it would not be good if Oliver started failing chemistry again because Felicity was too distracted to actually tutor him.

She’s in the process of explaining how to draw an electron dot diagram for a water molecule when Oliver’s mother appears in the doorway to his bedroom, clearing her throat to get their attention. When Oliver sees her, he blows out a frustrated sigh. 

“What’s up, mom?” he says, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m on my way out to a meeting with the board at Starling General,” Moira tells him, reaching up to adjust one tasteful pearl earring. “So I’d appreciate it if you and Felicity could study downstairs in the kitchen."

“Why?"

"Because I asked to you, Oliver,” Mrs. Queen says.

He sighs again, but starts gathering up his homework. Felicity grabs her backpack and follows Oliver downstairs, making sure to keep a respectable distance between them. The kitchen is big and open and empty, and they head over to table on the far side near one of the giant windows that look out over the back of the estate. Mrs. Queen watches them closely as they spread their books and worksheets out on the table. 

“Your sister will be home from school soon, and Raisa and the rest of the staff will be in to prepare dinner in a few hours,” Moira tells them once they’ve settled in. “And I’ve already arranged for Geoffrey to drive Felicity home, so when you’ve finished here, he’ll have the car ready out front."

“I can drive Felicity home,” Oliver tells her, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“I’d prefer it if you stayed here and looked after your sister,” Mrs. Queen says pointedly. She pulls an slip of paper out of her purse and hands it to Felicity. It turns out to be a check for $500, made out to her. “I’ve already given Geoffrey your address."

“Thank you?” Felicity says, and it comes out more questioning than she means for it to as she lays the money face down on the table beside her chemistry book. 

Mrs. Queen gives her a tight smile, one that doesn't reach her eyes, and then she's gone, leaving a cloud of Chanel No. 5 and disdain hanging in her wake.

Somehow, after Moira leaves, they actually manage get most of the way through their chemistry homework. Thea gets home from school about two minutes after Moira leaves, banging noisily through the front door and then clattering up the stairs to her room. After that, it’s mostly quiet in the house, no one bothering them as they study, but Oliver starts getting restless before too long, doodling on the margins of his homework and tapping his foot lightly against hers under the table, giving her a sideways smile when she taps him back.

“Oliver,” she finally sighs, putting down her pencil and giving him what she hopes is a stern look over the top of her glasses.

“I’m bored,” he groans, slumping over the table, resting his forehead on his unfinished chemistry homework.

“We’re almost done,” she assures him. There are only a few more problems left on their homework and they can probably knock them out in about fifteen minutes.

“I don’t want to be almost done,” he says. She quirks an eyebrow in question, and he sighs. “If we’re done, you’re going to have to go home and then I’ll really be bored.” He drags himself back upright, leaning over to press a soft kiss against the corner of her mouth.

“Oliver…” she says again, and she knows she should definitely put a stop to his, but he’s kissing his way down her jaw, the light bit of stubble on his cheeks scraping pleasantly across the sensitive skin on her throat, and honestly, there's only so much she can take. 

He smiles against her skin, reaching under the table to take her free hand in his, stroking his thumb over the back of her knuckles. Really, they’re basically done with their chemistry homework and there's no one around, so it’s totally fine if they take a short break, Felicity reasons to herself. She drops her pencil, reaching over to cup the back of his head, dragging him back up so she can kiss him on the mouth. Felicity doesn’t know how long they stay like that, making out right in the middle of the Queen’s giant kitchen, but suddenly: “Mom wants to talk to you,” a voice says from behind them.

They spring apart so fast that Felicity bangs her knee painfully on the underside of the table. When she turns around, Oliver’s kid sister is standing in the doorway, smirking and holding her cell phone out to Oliver, and Felicity’s stomach drops.

“What?" Oliver says. His face is red and his lips look a little swollen, and oh god, they are so busted.

“Mom?" Thea says again, raising her eyebrows and waggling the phone at him. It’s got a bright pink case with plastic bunny ears sticking out of the top. "She’s on the phone."

"Why didn’t she call me?” 

Thea rolls her eyes. "I don’t know, because she called me? Just take the stupid phone, Ollie."

He narrows his eyes, but gets up to take the phone, walking out into the hallway and he holds it up to his ear. “Hello,” he says, sounding annoyed, and then his voice fades away and Felicity doesn’t hear what he says next. 

Felicity tries to refocus on her homework as Thea hovers near the table, watching her curiously. Her knee hurts from where she hit it on the table, and she rubs it gently, trying not to wince.

“What were you and Ollie doing?” Thea finally asks, and Felicity’s stomach twists.

“Homework,” Felicity lies immediately, glancing up at Thea, anxiety building in her chest. “We just doing homework."

“No, you weren’t,” she says, giving Felicity a knowing smirk.

“Um.” The anxious feeling is now a full-blown sense of panic. "How long were standing there?"

Thea just shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you Ollie’s girlfriend?" 

"Uh,” Felicity hedges, as Thea drops down into the chair across the table, watching Felicity as she waits for her to answer. And Felicity should probably lie, but it feels wrong to lie to a kid, especially Oliver’s sister, so: "Sort of,” she confesses. "But it’s kind of a secret right now."

"I won’t tell anyone," Thea says easily, leaning her elbows on the table and looking at Felicity with open interest. "My mom doesn’t like you, you know."

Well, at least the kid is honest. “Yeah,” Felicity says dryly. “I've noticed that."

"I don’t know why,” Thea says, tilting her head and studying Felicity like she’s trying to see what it is about her that Moira doesn’t like. "You seem nice. And Ollie’s been way happier since you started coming to our house."

Felicity's heart flips in her chest, and she has to bite her lip to keep from smiling. 

Thea plucks a shiny red apple out of the fruit bowl, turning it over in her hands as she studies Felicity. "Do you have a brother?” she asks.

Felicity shakes her head, grateful for the change in subject. “No."

"A sister?” 

"It’s just me," she says apologetically.

“Oh," Thea says, sounding disappointed. "That sounds kind of lonely."

"I’m pretty used to it."

Thea takes a bite of her apple, crunching on it as she watches Felicity add electrons to her diagram. "What about your mom?"

"What about her?"

"Are you guys close?” she asks around a mouthful of fruit.

"Um. Not really. We don’t have very much in common, and she works a lot, so...” Felicity shrugs, turning back to her homework, hoping Thea will get the hint. Talking about her family isn’t exactly her favorite thing in the world. Unfortunately, subtle hints and twelve year-olds aren’t particularly compatible, so of course Thea doesn’t drop it.

"My dad works a lot, too,” she sympathizes. She takes another bite of her apple, chewing thoughtfully. "What about your dad?"

"My dad?"

"Yeah. Does he work a lot too?"

"Uh. I don’t know, actually.” Felicity clears her throat, looking down at the table. She’s got way too many dots on her diagram, and she erases her work, brushing away the gross eraser flakes it leaves behind. "He left when I was little."

"That sucks," Thea says.

Felicity’s got a lump in her throat, so she just nods, worried that if she says anything she might cry, which is completely ridiculous. Her father’s been gone for a long time, so who even cares that he left. But for some reason, she feels tears burning behind her eyes and she seriously can’t believe she’s about to cry in front of Oliver’s little sister.

“Speedy,” Oliver says, and when Felicity looks up, he’s walking into the kitchen, a look on his face that she can’t read. "Stop bugging Felicity.” He gets to where Thea’s sitting and taps her gently on the head with the plastic bunny ears on her phone.

Thea ducks, swatting at him. “I wasn’t bugging her,” she tells Oliver, looking up at him and snatching the phone out of his hands. “We were having a conversation."

“Well, now your conversation is over because Felicity and I have a lot of studying to do,” he says, nudging her lightly on the arm and nodding his head for her to go.

“Yeah, right,” Thea mumbles. “ _Studying._ "

“Speedy,” Oliver says warningly, and Thea rolls her eyes.

“Fine, I’m leaving,” she gets up from the chair, sighing heavily as she picks up her half-eaten apple. "Bye, Felicity."

"Bye, Thea."

"Sorry about that,” Oliver says once Thea’s gone. His voice is quiet and soft, and Felicity knows he probably heard at least part of her conversation with Thea.

"No problem,” she says, shrugging it off. "Everything okay with your mom?"

Oliver rolls his eyes. “Yeah, she was just calling to pretend like she had a question for me. I seriously don’t know what her problem is."

Felicity nods, chewing on her lip and doing the chemistry problem again, making sure she gets the right number of electrons this time. Beside her, Oliver is quiet, but she can feel him staring at her.

“I’ll talk to Thea,” he assures her. “Make sure she doesn’t say anything to my mom."

“Okay.” Felicity nods, keeping her head down as she moves on to the next diagram.

“Hey, what you said to Thea, about your dad...Why didn’t you ever tell me that?"

She shrugs. They only have two problems left on the homework, but Oliver seems way more interested in staring at her than he does in drawing the diagram for ammonium. Finally Felicity gives up trying to do the work, sighing and turning to look at him with what she hopes is a neutral expression. “I don't really like to talk about my family,” she tells him, which is maybe the understatement of the century.

"I’ve noticed," he says, and she just nods, glancing back down the at the homework.

“Hey.” Oliver bumps his shoulder against hers lightly, waiting until she looks up at him before he says, "No pressure or anything, but if you ever do want to talk about your family — or about anything — you can talk about it with me."

Her heart stutters at how he’s looking at her right now, focused and sincere, like her stupid family drama is some big important thing to him. “Thank you, Oliver,” she says, and the smiles at her in this way that makes her chest feel tight.

*

Felicity spends most of Thursday and Friday expecting Moira Queen to fire her, but it doesn’t happen, so she guesses Oliver managed to convince his sister not to say anything. It makes Felicity kind of uncomfortable, asking a kid to lie to her mom for them, but Oliver doesn’t mention it, so she doesn’t push it.

If she’s being honest with herself, Felicity knows keeping their relationship a secret is probably a terrible idea, but for right now, it's the only way she can think of to get everything she wants. And they’re kind of figuring out a way to make it work for them, stealing time together whenever they can, skipping their lunch period to duck into an empty classroom together and engaging in a few more janitor's-closet dalliances. But they can’t really go out together, not really, not dating, not until they’re okay with other people knowing, and that part is starting to get pretty depressing.

Which probably explains why Felicity's actually excited when Oliver says he wants for her to come to the game on Friday night to watch him play. Sure, they won't actually get to hang out much, but it's going to be refreshingly normal, the kind of a thing the girlfriend of the quarterback would do. It's probably going to be a little weird, going to the game by herself, plus she's going to need a ride to the game, and it's not like any of her friends are big into the football thing. But then, on Friday morning, she sees Iris in the hallway between classes and remembers Barry saying something about her getting assigned the sports column for the school paper. So she skips out a couple of minutes early on her lunch period make-out session with Oliver, hoping to catch Barry at lunch before the bell rings. 

By the time Felicity makes it to the courtyard where she usually eats with Barry and Caitlin and Cisco, Barry’s still there, sitting on the half-wall over by the picnic tables by himself, sipping a can of soda. When he sees her he smiles, squinting against the sun as he waves at her. 

Felicity waves back. “Hey, Barry."

“Hey.” Barry smiles up at her. “Long time no see."

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Felicity tells him, reaching up unconsciously to smooth a hand over the top of her ponytail, hoping it's not too mussed from when Oliver was running his fingers through it. “I’ve…there’s this thing I’ve been doing, I mean, not doing," Felicity says, mentally cursing herself for not having thought of an excuse for why she hasn’t been coming to lunch over the past week. "Working on. With, I mean."

"O-kay," Barry says slowly, raising his eyebrows. "What’s up?"

“You’re going to the game tonight, right?” 

“Yeah,” Barry agrees, scooting over so Felicity has a place to sit. "Iris is still on sports, even though she totally hates it. But she’s got this plan to turn the assignment into a bigger story. She’s got this really great angle about athletes getting special treatment, thinking she might do an expose on it, which is totally brilliant of her, and uh...” Barry shakes his head, giving Felicity a sheepish smile. “Anyway. Yeah. I’ll be there. Why?"

“Mind if I tag along?" Felicity asks, purposefully not saying anything about his Iris-inspired ramble.

“You want to go to the football game?” Barry asks, sounding skeptical. "Why?"

Felicity shrugs. “I went to a game a couple of weeks ago. It was fun."

Barry’s eyebrows shoot up. “Fun?” he repeats. “You thought a high school football game was _fun_?"

“Yep,” Felicity says with as much conviction as she can muster, which is admittedly not very much. “So can I go with you and Iris or not?"

“Uh, yeah,” Barry says. “Sure."

“Great. Can you guys pick me up?"

“Definitely. But we’ve got to get here early because Iris needs to interview some of the players before the game. It’s Oliver Queen’s first game back after the whole suspension thing...which you probably know since you were basically the one who helped him get back on the team, right?"

“Oh, uh. Yeah. Kind of. I mean, yes, since I helped him get his grades back up, but that's really the only reason I know about it. Because I don't really care about that kind stuff or pay any attention to what Oliver Queen is doing, and just uh...” she trails off, realizing she probably sounds a lot like Barry did just a second ago when he was babbling about Iris. “So…I’ll see you tonight?"

“Yep,” Barry agrees, and he’s smiling at her in this too-knowing way, but he’s kind of in love with his sister, so it’s not like he’s in any position to judge. “See you tonight."

*

It turns out that football games are a lot less fun when you’re not sitting next to the guy you’ve got an incredible crush on. Not that Felicity has a terrible time or anything, just it’s…it’s a little boring, if you want to know the truth. Plus, Barry is great and all, but he has even less interest in the game than she does, spending almost all of his time watching as Iris interviews fans and cheerleaders and the players on the bench.

Under normal circumstances, Felicity might be annoyed, but she’s actually kind of glad that Barry’s preoccupied, since otherwise he might notice how she can’t take her eyes off Oliver. He looks really good in his football uniform, and he's amazing, throwing these perfect spirals and calling plays, totally in his element on the field. It's a side of him Felicity's never really seen before, and she can't stop from smiling as she watches him play.

“So, be honest,” Barry says a couple of minutes into the second quarter, leaning over to talk to her in a low voice. “How much of the fun part of football has to do with the fact that you like Oliver Queen?"

“What?” Felicity says, actually jumping her seat. “No. I don’t like Oliver. What are you talking about?"

Barry rolls his eyes. “Come on, Felicity. You haven’t taken your eyes off him the entire game."

“He’s the quarterback,” Felicity says, which she thinks is a pretty good comeback. After all, the quarterback is like the most important position so probably everyone pays a lot of attention to him. Right? 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I get it,” Barry continues, blithely ignoring her completely lame excuse. "Oliver’s handsome and popular and basically the coolest guy in school. And I know you’ve been hanging out with him and tutoring him and, hey, lots of girls like him."

“That's not how it is,” Felicity says, annoyed that Barry would think she would fall for Oliver for such stupid, easy reasons. “I mean, yeah, Oliver’s super-popular and incredibly good-looking but that’s not why I like him. Well, it’s part of why I like him — the attractive thing, I mean, not the popularity thing. I don’t really care about that part, it’s kind of annoying, actually, especially when you’re trying to have a secret relationship—"

“Wait,” Barry interrupts. “You’re having a secret relationship? With Oliver Queen?"

“Shhh,” Felicity shushes him, looking around to make sure no one heard. 

Barry narrows his eyes, leaning in to talk to her in a low voice. “You’re seriously hooking up with him? And, what, he’s not letting you tell anyone?"

“It’s not like that,” Felicity whispers back. No one seems to be staring at them, so hopefully the whole her-and-Oliver thing isn’t going go public. “Or I guess it’s kind of like that, but not because of Oliver. It’s because of me and his mother and this whole tutoring thing, and it’s just…it’s complicated. And we’re not telling anyone, except I did just tell you," she realizes with a jolt of panic. Ugh, what is wrong with her? Why can she never seem to stop talking? “But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?" she asks hopefully, reaching out to take Barry's hand in hers.

Barry looks at her, and then sighs, shaking his head before turning his attention back to the field. “Fine,” he agrees, but he doesn’t sound happy about it. “But, for the record, I think you can do a lot better than sneaking around with Oliver Queen."

Felicity gives his hand a squeeze, but she doesn’t argue with him. Not because she agrees that she could do better, but because it’s just a lot more complicated than he thinks. “Thank you, Barry,” she says instead, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder. “You’re the best."

*

Felicity doesn’t get a chance to talk to Oliver after the game, and she doesn’t know what Oliver’s plans are — if Tommy’s throwing another party, if Oliver would go even if there was a party — so she just has Barry and Iris drop her off at her house. Her mom’s working the overnight shift, so the house is dark and empty when she gets there and she texts Oliver as soon as she gets inside, asking him if he wants to come over. She waits, but he doesn’t text back, her phone remaining depressingly silent. She tries not to read too much into it — it’s Oliver’s first game back and they won and he and Tommy just made up, so. It’s fine. Really.

She’s showered and changed into her pajamas when there’s a knock at her front door, which is honestly a pretty terrifying sound in her neighborhood this late at night. But she chances a peek out her window and she sees Oliver’s Porsche sitting at the curb, gleaming darkly in the moonlight, and her stomach fills with butterflies. 

There’s another knock on the door, and Felicity lets the curtain fall back as she practically runs to the door. When she opens it, Oliver’s there, dressed in jeans and a dark green t-shirt, looking freshly showered and almost unbelievably handsome.

“Hi,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest as she remembers that she’s wearing her pajamas, a thin purple tank top and loose cotton pants with cartoon ponies on them. 

“Hey.” Oliver smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nice jammies."

Felicity laughs, her cheeks getting warm. “Shut up."

“Can I come in?” Oliver bites his lip and glances up at her through his lashes. Felicity’s stomach flips pleasantly. 

“Definitely,” Felicity tells him, stepping back so that he can get inside. He smiles as he walks into her house, and he smell really good, like soap and laundry detergent and expensive cologne, that green, woodsy scent she always associates with him. She closes the door, the lock snicking loudly as she turns it.

“My mom’s working all night,” she says, and it comes out a lot more forward than she means for it to, and Oliver’s eyes go dark, his gaze flicking up and down her body. “I mean —" she starts, but then Oliver’s kissing her, his palm cupping his cheek and his mouth pressed against hers. 

“Hey,” Oliver whispers, his voice low and rough. "Who was that guy you were with tonight?"

Felicity blinks, feeling dazed. “Huh?"

“At the game,” Oliver says, his breath hot against her lips. “You were with some guy. Kind of scrawny, looked like he was about twelve."

“Oh,” Felicity shrugs. “That was just Barry."

Oliver glances down at her mouth. “You guys are friends?"

“Yeah,” Felicity says, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him again. He kisses her back before he pulls away again like he’s going to say something else, but Felicity hooks one finger through a belt loop on his jeans before he gets a chance, tugging him closer to her. When his hips press against hers, he makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat, kissing her hard and desperate and hungry, sucking on her lower lip, and with any luck, that means this conversation is over. 

Felicity’s skin feels like it’s humming and she can’t stop touching him and she’s never felt like this before about guy, and it’s like her brain is completely clouded with lust, like she can’t think of anything besides touching him, like he’s the only thing in the whole world that matters.

They stumble down the hallway to her bedroom, Felicity walking backwards as she pulls Oliver along with her. He’s still got one hand cupping her cheek, but his other hand is on her hip, hot through the thin fabric of her pajamas, and this feels like it’s maybe moving kind of fast, but they’ve had just tiny snatches of time together all week and now they’re alone and her mom’s not going to be home for hours and Felicity can’t bring herself to stop. She pulls him into her bedroom, and then suddenly he’s breaking the kiss, pulling away to look around.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. Her breath is coming fast and shallow and her lip feel swollen and sort of bruised, and Oliver’s eyes are dark, but he’s peering over her shoulder, looking around curiously.

“This is the first time I’ve seen your room,” Oliver says.

Felicity blinks. “What?"

“The last time I was here, you made me wait in the living room,” he tells her, still looking around. Her room is small and crappy like the rest of the house, and this whole interest in talking isn't exactly what Felicity had in mind. “You’re really into computers, huh?"

“Do you really want to talk about my geeky hobbies right now?” Felicity groans. His body is solid against hers and he smells amazing, and Felicity can’t believe he actually has any interest in the random computer parts strewn over every flat surface of her room.

"I want to know about everything you're interested in," Oliver tells her, which is sweet and all, but she definitely didn't invite him over tonight to talk processors and motherboards.

“I promise to tell you all about my freakish love of computers at some point, but for right now…” She fists a hand in the front of his shirt, pulling him back down so that she can kiss him without totally straining her neck. 

Oliver doesn’t hesitate when he kisses her back, and when his hips bump against hers, she can feel how hard he is through his jeans, and her breath stutters in her throat. He spins them so that his back is to her bed, and then he starts walking backward until the back of his knees hit the bed, and he sits down heavily, pulling her down too so that she’s on top of him, her knees on either side of his hips.

His shirt has gotten pushed up a little, exposing a thin strip of tan skin, and Felicity reaches out, running her fingers gently over the flat plane of his stomach. She traces the soft trail of hair that disappears into his jeans, and he sucks in a breath, his eyes closing and his head tipping back against the mattress. Felicity presses her palm flat against his belly, watching in fascination as Oliver shifts under her, his mouth opening slightly, a blissed out expression on his face.

She scrapes her fingernails lightly along the ridges of his abs, rolling her hips against his, and his body surges against hers, his eyes blinking open, his pupils so wide that the blue is almost completely taken over by the black.

When she leans closer to him, her glasses slip down the edge of her nose, and he reaches up, removing them slowly. The world turns fuzzy, and she closes her eyes as Oliver kisses her again, deep and slow, his hands bracketing her hips. Felicity slides her hand up further, snaking it up under his shirt until she can feel the frantic beating of his heart against her palm. 

Oliver's body rocks against hers in a steady rhythm, and there’s a warm, languid heat flooding through her body, settling hot between her legs. Oliver is kissing her and kissing her, and when he dips his fingertips below the waistband of her pajama pants, Felicity makes a quiet, desperate noise in the back of her throat, grinding her hips against his. Oliver slides his hand further under her pajamas, his skin warm against hers, his fingers dipping lower and lower until he’s touching her right where she wants him to, and when she opens her eyes again, he’s looking up at her and she can feel his heart beating under her fingertips and suddenly it’s too much too fast too intense, and Felicity gasps, jerking away from him in surprise.

Beneath her, Oliver sits up, propping himself up on his elbows, his forehead knit in confusion. “Are you okay?” His voice is low and rough, and Felicity nods, trying to catch her breath enough to form words.

“Yeah,” she finally manages, but she feels kind of like an idiot, her skin hot and too-tight and her heart beating wildly in her chest. “It’s just...I haven’t, I mean I’ve never…”

Oliver blinks, and she can see the moment he gets it, understanding crashing over him. “Oh.”

“I mean, it’s not like I’ve never done anything,” she says quickly, trying to salvage the moment, hoping that this doesn't freak him out too much. “I’ve had boyfriends. But I haven’t ever…"

“That’s okay,” Oliver breathes, but he eases his hand out from under her waistband and settling it on her hip, stroking the fabric of her pajama pants with the pad of his thumb. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

"Oh, I want to do everything," Felicity says immediately, and she blushes, her cheeks burning. It's just...she doesn't want Oliver to think that she doesn't want this, because she does. Only, maybe not right now. “I really, definitely want to. But maybe we can take it kind of slow?”

Oliver smiles, relaxing slightly and smiling up at her. "We can go slow."

"Not too slow," Felicity corrects, rolling her hips against his. Oliver closes his eyes and makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. "Just kind of slow."

"Kind of slow," he agrees and then he’s leaning up to kiss her again, slow and deliberate.

Felicity kisses him back, her skin humming and her heart pounding, and she wonders if this is what it feels like, falling in love.


	13. Chapter 13

Homecoming has always been a pretty big deal to Oliver. He’s been on the court every year since he was a freshman, and maybe it’s kind of stupid that he cares about it so much, but he’s been looking forward to senior year homecoming for four years now. Plus, the whole thing is a huge production, and every football player gets matched up with a cheerleader who decorates his locker and bakes him cookies and just makes him feel awesome. Oliver looks forward to it every year.

But this year, when Homecoming week finally does roll around, Oliver’s dreading it. The football player-cheerleader pairings got assigned weeks ago, before Tommy’s party, before Oliver met Felicity, before he kissed Sara, before Laurel hated him. He figures he’s been matched up with Laurel, which means Oliver he’s not getting his jersey number written on his locker in sparkly paint or a basket full of delicious baked goods or anything other than icy silence and angry glares. 

So he’s pretty surprised when he gets to school on Monday morning and there are balloons tied to his locker and _Oliver for King!_ is scrawled across the front of his locket in blue and silver glitter. He pulls up short in the hallway when he sees it, kind of embarrassed about how happy it makes him, the possibility that maybe Homecoming this year isn’t going to be such a disaster. 

He’s still just standing there, when Dig comes behind him clapping him on the shoulder. “Nice locker, Queen. I like the glitter. Very manly."

Oliver laughs. “Real men love glitter, Diggle.” 

Diggle snorts, shaking his head. “Either Laurel’s the most forgiving girl on the planet, or you dodged a major bullet, man."

Oliver’s about to respond when: “Definitely the latter,” Tommy says from behind them. “You’re lucky you’ve got friends in high places."

“You did this?"

“I mean, I didn’t scrawl your name in glitter,” he says, nodding at Oliver’s locker. "But I arranged some things.” Oliver raises his eyebrows, and Tommy shrugs. "Figured it might be easier for everyone. Considering."

“Good call,” Dig says, glancing at Oliver sidelong.

“Thanks, man,” Oliver says easily because, yeah, Tommy’s still being a little pointed about the whole Laurel thing, but whatever. They’ll both get over it. 

Tommy shrugs again. “Not a problem. Although, I gotta tell you, it was a challenge finding a cheerleader that you hadn’t hooked up with, but I think I finally managed."

“Who’d you get?” Dig asks.

“McKenna Hall,” Tommy says. Oliver winces, and Tommy rolls his eyes. “Seriously, Ollie?"

Oliver shrugs. "It was a freshman year. She was hot."

“And apparently not one to hold a grudge,” Diggle says. “Which I’m starting to think is the most important criteria for dating Oliver Queen."

“So what about Laurel?” Oliver asks, pointedly ignoring Dig’s comment. “Whose locker did she decorate this morning?"

To his credit, Tommy barely hesitates before he answers. “Only the most handsome corner back at Starling Academy.” He smiles and rocks onto the balls of his feet, but there’s an edge to his voice, and he keeps looking at Oliver out of the corner of his eye, like he’s not sure how he’s going to respond.

“Thanks, Tommy,” Oliver says, giving him what he hopes is an easy smile. Tommy just seems to be really aware of everything Laurel’s doing these days.

*

The Homecoming ballot is announced right before the end of first period, and Oliver’s embarrassed about how relieved he is that his name is on it. Not that he thinks he’ll win or anything — after the past couple of weeks, his stock has definitely dropped at Starling — but he’d be disappointed if he wasn’t even a candidate. Laurel’s up for queen, of course, and Oliver can’t help but notice the way that Felicity’s shoulders tighten when Laurel's name is announced. 

“Hey,” Oliver whispers, leaning over so that his chin is resting on Felicity's shoulder, his lips brushing her ear. “Just think…a few days from now, you could be dating a Queen and a king."

Felicity snorts, but her shoulders relax as she turns her head slightly. Oliver can smell her toothpaste, minty and sweet. “Every girl’s dream come true."

He spends the rest of the period finding ways to distract her, flicking the end of her ponytail and leaning over to whisper things in her ear every couple of minutes. All in all, it's not a bad way to spend an hour.

They get their quizzes back at the end of the period, picking them up from Ms. Lewis’s desk as they leave the room. Oliver sorts through the stack until he finds his, a bright red C scrawled at the top, which is awesome, and then flips through a few more papers before he finds Felicity’s and hands it to her. 

She takes it from him with a smile, but when she looks down at the paper, she makes a strangled noise of disbelief, stopping in her tracks right outside the chemistry lab. 

"You okay?” Oliver asks. The hallway is filled with people, and Oliver has to lean in close to hear her response.

"I got a B," Felicity says, sounding shocked.

“Nice,” Oliver says. He’s pretty happy with his C, and he figures Felicity should be okay with a B, especially since neither one of them has been the most focused on school work over the past couple of days.

Felicity turns her head, blinking at him like she can’t quite make sense of what he just said. "I’ve never gotten a B in my life."

Oliver quirks an eyebrow, cramming his own quiz into his backpack. “Seriously?"

"I got an A- on a history test once," she says. “In second grade. But it was only because my history teacher, Mr. Andrews, actually thought Benjamin Franklin invented electricity."

"So you got a B," Oliver shrugs, bumping his shoulder against his. "You’ll do better next time." 

Felicity nods, but she doesn’t say anything, still staring at her quiz.

“Hey," Oliver says, and she looks up. "We still on for later?"

“Yeah,” she says vaguely. "See you then."

*

Felicity’s distracted during lunch, telling him she has some homework she has to finish up, which to his dismay, she actually spends the whole lunch period working on. And then she's quiet on the car ride to his house, chewing on her lip as she stares out the window, barely responding to anything Oliver says. He’s hoping once they’re alone in his room, he’ll be able to get her snap out of whatever’s gotten her so upset, but of course, as soon as they walk through the front door, his mother’s there, arranging the pictures on the table in the foyer.

“Oliver and I need somewhere else to study,” Felicity announces immediately, and his mother looks at up, eyebrows raised. “I mean,” Felicity adds, in this way that means she's about to start rambling. Oliver doesn’t interrupt her, no idea where Felicity’s going with this. “A new place in the house, not somewhere else. I’m not demanding you get us a hotel room or something to study in -- or to do anything else in for that matter! Because we don't do anything, me and Oliver. I mean, we study, obviously, but that's it, that's..." Felicity stops, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "We need a new place to study here at the house that isn’t Oliver’s bedroom."

“What’s wrong with my bedroom?" Oliver demands, confused. What is she doing? She's basically been completely ignoring him since after first period, and now she wants his _mother_ to recommend a different place for them to study?

"You get too distracted in your room," Felicity says, waving a hand dismissively at him and still looking at his mother expectantly.

His mom blinks. “In that case, perhaps you can study in the kitchen again?"

Felicity blushes so hard her ears turn pink. "The kitchen’s too bright and cheerful,” she says, her voice high. "Makes it hard to concentrate."

"Felicity, I think we can --" Oliver tries to say, but his mother cuts him off.

"You’re welcome to use the library then," she says, glancing at him briefly before turning her attention back to Felicity. “It’s where Thea does her homework."

It also has glass doors and zero privacy and is right next to his mother's office, which means it’s probably not the place for him and Felicity, but: “That sounds perfect,” Felicity says before Oliver has a chance to protest.

Oliver grits his teeth. “Felicity--" he starts, but she’s already gone, marching after his mother down the hallway to the library without so much as a backwards glance at him.

The entire afternoon is a total waste. Felicity refuses to talk to him about anything but schoolwork, spending the entire time focused on their chemistry homework with laser-like intensity. And even though Oliver usually finds her intensity charming and even a little sexy, it’s not much fun when it’s directed at something other him. Seriously, it was one B on one quiz. He's about to say something to her about it, tell her to relax or something, when suddenly Thea tromps through the door, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

"I need help with algebra," she announces, dropping down into the chair across from Felicity and pulling out her notebook, and Oliver sighs, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. This is really not the way he was hoping to spend his afternoon.

*

He’s in his room that night, sitting on his bed and playing Call of Duty when Thea knocks on his door. Oliver barely glances in her direction, just keeps his attention focused on the screen. Thea totally monopolized Felicity’s attention while they were in the library this afternoon, and Oliver’s had more than enough of his kid sister for one day. 

“Hey, Ollie,” Thea says in the voice she always uses when she wants something from him. Normally, Oliver would humor her, but after this afternoon, he’s not inclined to do her any favors.

“Go away, Speedy,” he says, clicking the controller to toss a grenade at an enemy soldier. “I’m busy."

Thea ignores him, leaning against the door to his room. “Can you take me to the mall?"

“Get mom to do it,” he tells her. Onscreen, he’s suddenly surrounded by Nazi zombies, the attacks coming from all angles. He keeps tossing grenades, but he can already tell it's a lost cause. Damn it. “Or one of the drivers. That’s what they’re here for."

Thea groans, wandering into his room and plopping down on the bed beside him, the mattress bouncing lightly under her slight weight. “But I want _you_ to drive me.”

“Why?” Oliver glances at her sidelong.

“Because I love you?” Thea says in a hopeful voice.

Yeah, right. “Isn’t it kind of late to go to the mall on a school night?"

“It’s seven-thirty,” Thea scoffs.

“Exactly."

“Please,” Thea begs. “It’ll be totally lame if I show up with mom or one of the drivers in their dorky uniforms. My friends all think you’re cute and your car is way cooler than the stupid Bentley."

Oliver rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to the screen as the game restarts. “Scram, Speedy."

Thea sighs heavily, sounding every bit the put-upon little sister. “Fine, I’ll ask mom,” she says, pushing herself up off the bed and wandering back over to the door. "She’s been trying to talk to me all day anyway, something about you and Felicity."

But Oliver pauses the game and drops the controller on the floor, giving her a stern look, but Thea just looks back at him with wide-eyed innocence. “Fine,” he says, and Thea grins, bouncing on her toes. “Get your stuff. Let’s go."

Thea spends the first few minutes of the drive messing with the stereo, plugging in her iPhone and swiping around until she lands on some horrible boyband thing that makes Oliver want to claw his ears out. He makes it through one and a half songs before he can’t take it any more, and he reaches out and flicks off the stereo, plunging the car into welcome silence. 

“Hey!” Thea protests, reaching for the volume. Oliver gets there first, turning the music back on, but low enough so that it’s not completely insufferable. 

“So…” he says, clearing his throat, not exactly sure how to broach the whole him and Felicity thing with Thea. “How’s school going?"

Thea looks over at him, one eyebrow quirked. “Ollie,” she says, in this voice that is way too knowing for a twelve year old. “Come on."

“What?"

"I know you don’t actually care about how school is going,” Thea tells him, shaking her head like she’s offended he’d even try this tactic, which is actually kind of unfair because it’s not like Oliver doesn’t care how things are going with her. 

"I do!"

"No, you don’t,” Thea argues, turning in her seat so she can face him. "You want to talk to me about not telling mom about you and Felicity. Which…why don’t you want her to know about you and Felicity?"

Oliver sighs. They’re only a few miles from the mall, so if he wants to have this conversation, he should probably get to it. "Because mom is being weird and Felicity is a little scared of her."

Thea nods seriously. "Mom can be kind of scary." 

"Yeah, well,” Oliver shrugs, glad she seems like she kind of gets it. "Felicity’s worried if mom and dad find out, they’re not going to let her keep tutoring me." 

"Who cares? It’s not like you guys wouldn’t ever see each other again."

"I know, it seems kind of dumb, but…” he stops, trying to think of an excuse why it matters, before deciding to just tell Thea the truth. “It’s important to Felicity."

Thea nods thoughtfully as Oliver pulls into the parking lot. There’s a group of girls standing in front of the doors and when they see the Porsche, all of them smile, playing with their hair and standing up a little straighter.

"Are you in love with her?” Thea asks, and Oliver brakes too hard as he pulls up to the curb, the tires squealing slightly. 

“What?"

“Felicity,” Thea prompts, ignoring the girls who are waiting impatiently for her to get out of the car. "Are you in love with her or what?"

“I…” Oliver starts and then stops. “I don’t know." 

Thea frowns, looking disappointed. "Oh. Aren’t you supposed to know?"

"I’m not sure,” Oliver confesses because, yeah, he has no idea. He really likes Felicity and he wants to be with her and he can’t stop thinking about her, but he’s never really thought very hard about what that means. "I’ve never been in love with anyone before."

"Me either," Thea sympathizes, but then she’s unbuckling her seatbelt and reaching for the door handle. “Pick me up in an hour, okay?"

*

If Oliver's in love with Felicity, it actually explains a lot. Like how he can’t stop thinking about her, and how he just wants to spend time with her, and how everything becomes about a million times more interesting if she’s the one talking about it.

The realization is kind of cool and terrifying all at once, and he spends pretty much the entire night thinking about it, his heart beating way too fast and a giddy feeling in his stomach. 

*

The next morning in first period, Felicity's totally focused during first period, apparently riveted by whatever boring chemistry stuff Ms. Lewis is droning on about. Luckily, they’ve got their standing lunch period meeting, this time in one of the study rooms off the library. When Oliver gets there, Felicity’s already inside, her chemistry book open in front of her. She barely even looks up when he walks in.

“We’ve got a test in two weeks,” she says by way of greeting, still not really looking at him. “So we should probably start studying now."

Oliver makes a noncommittal and closes the door behind him. He walks up to the table, standing beside Felicity until she looks up at him. 

“Oliver--" she starts, but then he leans over and shuts her textbook very deliberately, not breaking eye contact with her. 

He’s right in her personal space, close enough that he can smell the familiar scent of her shampoo, and he doesn’t have to move far to kiss her. He runs his tongue along her lower lip until she opens her mouth under his, gasping slightly, reaching up to slide her hands through his hair, her fingernails scraping across his scalp. 

Oliver leans back against the table, pulling Felicity up along with him. He reaches does to hook a hand under her thigh, hauling her up so that he’s holding her, her legs hitched up around his waist.

He spins them around so that he’s sitting in the chair, Felicity straddling his lap, her skirt rucked up almost to around her waist. Oliver reaches down to brace one hand on her leg, stroking his thumb across the inside of her thigh until she moans into his mouth. Felicity's got her eyes closed, this line creasing her forehead like when she's concentrating really hard on something, and his heart does a funny little flip in his chest. He keeps watching her as he moves his hand higher, stroking up under her skirt, going slow enough to give her a chance to stop him if she wants, but she doesn’t, not even when he pushes her underwear aside and touches her where she’s hot and wet. God, she feels amazing, and Oliver never wants to stop doing this, just wants to touch her for the rest of his life, 

“Okay?” he asks. Her mouth is open slightly, red and swollen, and he’s messed up her hair enough that her ponytail’s basically undone, blonde hair falling around her face. She’s incredibly beautiful, her eyes closed and her cheeks pink, and Oliver loves her. He just does.

Felicity nods, her forehead resting against his, their lips barely brushing. “Yeah,” she breathes. She rolls her hips against his, and Oliver has never wanted anyone so bad in his life. “Don’t stop."

He strokes his fingers until she’s writhing on top of him, and he’s harder than he’s ever been in his life. He grinds his hips into hers, and she’s making these soft, encouraging noises, and then her eyes are squinching shut and she’s shuddering, her muscles spasming around his fingers, and her lips are pressed against his neck. Her breath is hot against his skin, and Oliver really didn’t think this through because when she shifts in his lap, rocking against him and scraping her teeth along his pulse point, the tightness at the base of his spine explodes, his hips jerking irregularly against hers, the warmth spreading across the front of his pants as he groans, clutching her to him, riding it out. 

“Um," Felicity says, her voice soft and shaky. “Wow."

Oliver smiles, pressing a soft kiss against her temple. He feels warm all over, his heart beating pleasantly fast. Felicity squirms slightly in his lap and he gasps, holding her in place with his hands on her hips.

Felicity goes still, and glances down at his pants, biting her lip. “Sorry about that,” she says, nodding at the wet spot, and Oliver feels himself blush.

“It’s okay,” he manages, feeling like he can’t quite catch his breath. Considering the fact that he just came in his pants like a twelve year-old, he should probably feel embarrassed, but his heart is racing and Felicity’s still in his lap, and he kind of doesn’t care. "I’ve got a change of clothes in my gym locker."

Apparently, they missed the end of the period bell, and the hallways are empty when they leave the library. Oliver’s carrying his blazer, holding it strategically in front of him, but it’s still a relief that there’s no one out there to see him. Even though she’s already late for her next class, Felicity walks with him to the gym, holding his free hand the whole time. Her hair’s still loose and her cheeks are flush, and he just really, really loves her.

Felicity waits in the gym while he goes into the locker room, tossing his jacket on the bench and rummaging around in his locker until he finds his spare school uniform. The pants are wrinkled and smell slightly like, well, the inside of a locker room, but at least they’re clean. He’s in the process of pulling the new pair of pants over his hips when Dig walks into the locker room, not looking at all surprised to find Oliver there.

“Everything okay?” Dig says, quirking an eyebrow at the pile of clothes on the bench, the stain on the on the front of his pants completely visible.

“Yeah, no, fine,” Oliver shrugs, clearing his throat. "I just...I spilled a latte on my pants."

“Right," Dig says, like he’s not buying it. He crosses his arms over his chest, watching as Oliver tucks his shirt into the clean pair of pants. "I saw Felicity waiting outside."

"Yeah, uh,” Oliver says, nodding and sliding his belt through the loops. He still feels kind of shaky, the blood not fully back to his brain. “Yeah, we were studying some chemistry stuff, so…” 

“Right," Dig says again, his eyes flicking back over to the discarded pants. "Studying during lunch. That does sound like you."

Oliver finishes buckling his belt, not saying anything. When he looks up, Dig’s watching him with narrowed eyes.

"She really likes you, man."

"Yeah, well. I really like her too,” Oliver snaps, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He knows he’s made some mistakes these last few weeks, but he doesn’t need his friends treating him like he’s a complete asshole. 

"You bringing her to the dance this weekend?"

Oliver shrugs, glancing down at the floor. He wants to bring Felicity to the dance, he really, really does, but if they’re trying to keep a low profile, that is the exact wrong way to do it. "It’s complicated,” he says lamely, and Diggle just shakes his head, like he’s not at all surprised.

*

When he gets back out into the gym, looking more or less presentable, Felicity's still waiting on the bleachers, her chemistry book open on her lap. She's pulled her hair back up into a ponytail and her glasses are perched on the end of her nose, but she glances up at him when he opens the locker room door, which Oliver takes as a good sign. 

"Hey," he says, and she smiles, closing her book and pushing her glasses back up on her nose. "Ready?"

"Ready," Felicity agrees, grabbing her bag and skipping down the bleachers.

"So you know the dance is this weekend, right?" Oliver asks as they're making their way back to the main part of campus.

Felicity nods. "I do."

"Well," Oliver starts, then stops. Obviously he wants to go to the dance with Felicity, but what he said to Dig is true: it's complicated. Not just because they're trying to keep this whole thing quiet, but also because the Homecoming dance is kind of a really big deal and showing up together would be a huge statement, one Oliver's not sure either one of them is ready for.

"Oliver?" Felicity prompts. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he says, shaking his head. He is definitely over thinking this. It's just a stupid dance; he's asked a million girls to a million dances, but for some reason he can't seem to get the words out without sounding like a babbling idiot. "So, I know we're doing the whole secret thing, but I was hoping you were going to go to the dance. Because, well, I'm going, obviously. And even if we can't go together, I was sort of thinking we could be there together. Secretly."

And, ugh, it sounds really bad when he says it like that, but for some reason, Felicity smiles, looking happy. "That sounds really great."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She grins at him, standing up on her tiptoes to press a kiss against his mouth, and Oliver doesn't know how long they have until the next bell rings, but he hopes it's a while.


	14. Chapter 14

To be honest, Felicity has never cared very much about Homecoming. The football game, the school spirit, the big dance — it’s just never been on her radar. But this year, she's actually kind of excited about it, especially the dance. Sure, it would probably be a lot more exciting if she and Oliver were actually going together _together_ , but this way is fine, too. Really.

At first, her is to just go with her usual group — Caitlin and Barry and Cisco — but that falls through as soon as she suggests it. Turns out, Caitlin's going with Ronnie; he rented a limo and made dinner reservations, the whole nine yards. Which is amazing news, because Caitlin’s had a crush on him forever, but Felicity didn’t even know they’d started going out, let alone that they were doing the full-on dating thing. But Caitlin’s over the moon about it, which is awesome.

Even Cisco has a date, he and Hartley apparently both finally admitting that they like each other. And that’s great, too. Cisco’s great and Hartley, well...Felicity’s just glad Cisco’s happy. And it’s just, Felicity’s apparently missed a lot over the past couple of weeks. 

She's grateful that Barry has a completely unattainable crush on Iris because otherwise she’d have to go to the dance alone, which she’s not sure she’s up for, especially considering that Oliver might get elected king and she’ll have to watch him dance with whoever wins queen. Laurel, probably. 

Lucky for her, Barry doesn’t have a date, something he tells her while they’re in physics, the two of them setting up their circuit kit for the lab.

“Is Iris going?” Felicity asks gently. Honestly, she wishes Barry would just tell Iris he likes her. Sure, it’s kind of weird because of the whole brother-sister thing, and it’s got huge heartbreak potential, but anything’s got to be better than where he is now, silently pining for a girl who doesn’t have any idea how he feels about her.

Barry shrugs, looking down at the table and reaching out to adjust one of the wires. A little jolt of current zaps him and he flinches, jerking his hand away from the circuit. “She’s going with Eddie Thawne,” he tells her, sounding as bitter as Felicity’s ever heard him sound. "They met while she was doing her athlete exposé last week, and apparently really hit it off. He's captain of the soccer team."

Felicity winces in sympathy. “Sorry, Barry."

He shrugs again. “It’s fine,” he tells her. "And, hey, at least I’m still free to be your plus one."

Felicity smiles at him gratefully. “You sure?"

“Yeah,” he says, bumping his shoulder against hers. “Besides, it might be fun. I’ve never been anyone’s beard before."

Felicity laughs, bumping him back hard enough to nudge him out of the way, finishing up the circuit kit herself. Barry’s a great guy, but if he’s not careful, he’s going to get himself electrocuted. And then who would Felicity bring to the dance?

*

Honestly, it’s kind of ridiculous that Felicity’s worried about the Homecoming dance at all, especially when she’s got much bigger things on her plate. 

At the end of her freshman year, Felicity came up with a plan. If she took academic classes for all of her electives and enrolled in at least two classes every summer at Starling Community College, she would have enough credits by the end of her junior year to graduate. So that’s what she did. Instead of driver’s ed or pottery or study hall, Felicity took computer science and physics and European history. Which is why she is now sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs outside of Principal Steele’s office, waiting to present her case to him, and trying to stop thinking about that one stupid B on that one stupid chemistry quiz. She’s gotten straight A’s since she was in preschool, she reminds herself. She’ll be fine. That doesn’t stop her from jumping in her seat when Mr. Steele’s door opens, the man himself standing there and looking at her expectantly. 

“Miss Smoak,” he says in a voice that’s probably supposed to be warm and inviting, but just makes Felicity even more nervous. “Please come in."

Felicity nods, tugging on the hem of her skirt as she follows him into his office. She’s got a folder in her backpack with all of her school records — transcript, report cards, perfect attendance certificates — and she pulls out the file before she sits on the edge of one of the plush leather chairs in front of his desk.

“So,” Mr. Steele says, smiling at her and folding his hands on the desk top. “What can I do for you, Felicity?"

“Well,” Felicity starts, taking a deep breath, and forcing herself not to fidget with the folder in her lap. "I wanted to talk to you about graduation."

“Graduation?” Principal Steele repeats, sounding confused. “You’re a junior, are you not?"

Felicity nods. “Technically, yes,” she says, pulling out her transcript and handing it to Mr. Steele. He takes it, but doesn’t look at it, his attention still on her. "But after this year, I’ll have enough credits to graduate. And I’ll have completed all the required classes,” Felicity continues, her nervousness just getting worse when he just keeps staring at her. "I’m in two sciences right now, and I took two maths and two histories last year, and an English class at SCC over the summer, and economics in dual enrollment after freshman year. All I need to be able to graduate in May is the school’s approval. Which I’m hoping to get. Right now."

Mr. Steele blinks, finally looking down at the packet of paper in his hands. He takes a couple of moments to look it over, flipping through the pages a few times. “I see."

“The application deadline for MIT is in just a few months,” Felicity tells him, not sure she can take any more of him not talking. She’s always liked Principal Steele, but right now, she wishes he was a little less attached to the whole inscrutable British thing. “And if I want to apply for next fall, I need to get written confirmation that I’ll be graduating in the spring."

“I see,” Mr. Steele says again, looking back down at her transcript, before glancing back up at her. “I must tell you, early graduation is highly unusual at Starling Academy,” he says, and Felicity’s heart sinks.

She’s worked so hard for this, and it’s totally not fair, this stupid school with it’s insane rules. It totally figures they won’t even consider all the work she’s put into this, but they’re willing to bend over backwards to give a leg up to any brat with a trust fund, and, seriously, how could they--

“However,” he continues, and Felicity’s silent rage screeches to a halt. She looks up at him, hopeful. “Your academic record is incredibly impressive. I’ll need to run this by the Headmaster, but if he approves, I see no reason you wouldn’t be able to graduate in May."

Felicity grins, smiling so wide her face hurts. 

*

Barry picks Felicity up at her house in his dad's car, rumbling up to the curb in the beat-up old Taurus that she knows from experience smells like fast food and stale coffee and that probably has a couple of pairs of old handcuffs floating around in the backseat. Because Barry’s dad is a cop. Not for any other reason. Felicity hopes.

Barry’s almost twenty minutes late, which for him is basically on time, and she watches from the front window as he dashes from the car in a slim dark suit with a skinny red tie, his Converse peeking out from under the hem of his trousers. He grins when he sees Felicity, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, and Felicity feels herself blush. “Wow,” he says, looking her up and down. “You look…wow. You look really good."

Felicity smiles, trying not to tug too much on the hem of her very short dress. When her mom found out she was going to the dance, she was basically completely overjoyed, clapping happily and insisting that she and Felicity go shopping for a dress together. They spent what turned out to be a not entirely un-fun afternoon at the mall, Felicity trying on about a million dresses until she found one that her mother declared was The One. Normally, Felicity would have disagreed just on principle, but the dress is kind of awesome, even if it’s something she would have never tried on if not for her mother’s insistence, the super-short skirt and strategically placed cut-outs on her hips and shoulders way more Donna’s style than Felicity’s. 

There’s a white orchard pinned to Barry's lapel and he slips a matching corsage over her wrist. Her mom isn't working tonight, which means she's home to embarrass Felicity and coo over how handsome Barry looks. She also ends up taking about a million picture of the two of them -- which of course only happens after she spends a good ten minutes struggling to figure out how to work the camera -- before Felicity’s finally able to drag Barry out of the house. 

It’s only homecoming, not prom or anything, so the dance is actually at the school, the gym decorated with streamers and balloons, a DJ set up on one end of the basketball court. Thanks to her mother’s complete inability to operate a camera, combined with Barry’s tendency to never be able to get anywhere on time, the dance is already in full-swing by the time they get there, the gym packed with people, the music blaring and the dance floor full.

Felicity tries not to be too obvious about looking for Oliver, but she can’t help it, craning her neck and peering around the gym for him as soon as she gets inside.

“He’s up there,” Barry says in her ear, and Felicity starts, giving him an apologetic look before turning to see where he’s pointing, which it turns out is the stage, Oliver and the rest of the Homecoming court lined up — Tommy and Laurel and Dig and a couple of other people Felicity vaguely recognizes from around the school. They’re apparently getting ready to announce the king and queen, and the music fades to a stop as Ms. Waller, the senior class sponsor, takes the stage, two plastic crowns held loosely in her hands.

Honestly, Felicity shouldn’t be surprised when Oliver and Laurel win Homecoming king and queen, but somehow she is. As soon as Oliver’s name is called, Felicity’s stomach drops, a sensation that only gets worse a couple of seconds later when they call Laurel’s name for queen, and a couple of girls standing behind them start talking about how this totally proves Oliver and Laurel are going to get back together now. 

“You know that’s not what this means, right?” Barry says, leaning over to talk to her in a low voice. Up on the stage, Oliver and Laurel are holding hands, both of them smiling at each other, looking like the most perfect high school couple anyone could imagine. 

Felicity shrugs. “Yeah,” she says, watching as Laurel leans over to whisper something in Oliver’s ear. He laughs in response, and Felicity feels sort of sick to her stomach. “But you’ve got to admit that they look good together."

“Nah,” Barry says, shaking his head. “They’re too perfect. The quarterback and the head cheerleader? Such a cliché."

Felicity just shrugs again as the music cues up, Oliver and Laurel turning to each other, Oliver sliding his arms around Laurel's hips as she gazes up into his eyes, and the sick feeling just gets worse, the hot prickle of tears starting to form behind her eyes. Felicity knows she’s probably being ridiculous, and it’s not like Oliver chose Laurel for queen or anything, but it still sucks, watching them look all perfect and wonderful together. 

“It’s just a stupid homecoming court,” Barry says, ducking his head and leaning in closer to talk to her, keeping his voice quiet enough so that no one around them can overhear. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Felicity just nods, blinking back tears. She knows she’s being silly, but Barry’s the only one of her friends who knows about her and Oliver and it’s kind of been getting to her, keeping this a secret and sneaking around. She thought she could handle it -- and she was handling it, she was doing fine -- at least until tonight, standing here and being reminded about how she and Oliver just don’t make any sense, that Laurel is perfect and gorgeous and they’ve got this whole long history that Felicity will never have with him. 

“Hey.” Barry squeezes her against his side in a gentle hug, pulling Felicity’s attention away from the sight of Laurel and Oliver smiling and dancing and gazing into each others' eyes “You wanna dance?"

What Felicity really wants to do is go home and sulk and eat a pint of mint chocolate chip and wallow in the knowledge that she and Oliver are probably never going to work out, but instead she nods and gives Barry what she hopes is a smile. “Okay."

He smiles back at her, turning her away from the stage, and sliding his arms loosely around her waist. “Just remember,” he tells her as she drapes her arms over his shoulders. “I am a terrible dancer."

Felicity smiles, the horrible, heavy feeling in her stomach getting a little bit lighter. “You’re not that bad,” she lies.

Barry scoffs. “I’m sorry, do you not remember Caitlin’s birthday party last year?” he says. "I stomped on your foot and broke two of your toes. You were on crutches for three weeks."

Felicity laughs, leaning her head against Barry’s shoulder. Somehow, she manages to block out the whole Laurel and Oliver thing happening onstage, she and Barry swaying together for a few more songs. It actually turns out to be kind of fun; she and Barry have always had a good time together and tonight’s no different, Barry getting a little more bold the longer they’re out on the dance floor, his swaying getting more and more dance-like by the song. He’s in the middle of attempting what is probably the world’s worst dip when someone clears his throat behind them, and when Felicity manages to pull herself upright, Oliver’s there. 

“Oh,” she says. She’s a little breathless from the whole dancing thing, and Oliver’s watching her with narrowed eyes, his gaze fixed somewhere around her side. Where, Felicity realizes, Barry’s still got his hand pressed against the bare skin above her hip. 

Barry must realize at the same time because he suddenly yanks his hand away like he’s been burned, a look of such abject terror on his face that it would be funny if Oliver wasn’t glaring at him quite so hard. 

There's a couple of beats of silence and then: “Barry! Hi!” Felicity looks up and Iris is heading in their direction, waving at Barry and popping the bubble of tension that's surrounding Felicity and Oliver and Barry, and Felicity's never been so glad to see Iris in her life. There's a cute blonde guy that Felicity’s never met before trailing alongside her, and Felicity guesses this is probably the captain of the soccer team that Barry mentioned. 

“Iris,” Barry says with a smile, his whole face lighting up in that way it always does when he’s around Iris, his fear of Oliver apparently forgotten now that Iris is around. “Hey. Hi. Hey."

Iris smiles, turning to Felicity and giving her a quick hug. “Hi, Felicity," she says, and then adds, "I didn’t know you and Barry were back together."

“Back together?” Oliver repeats. 

“Uh…” Barry stammers, casting a nervous glance in Oliver’s direction and taking a step away from Felicity, putting some space between them. “No, no we’re not—"

“We are _definitely_ not,” Felicity jumps in quickly. “There is nothing going on between us. We have been down that road, and it just does _not_ work. He’s like a brother to me or something,” she says, glancing over at Barry, who’s gazing at Iris kind of dreamily, so Felicity adds quickly: "Not that being brotherly means you can’t be interested in someone, but...I’m not. Interested in Barry. At all. Zero interest. I mean—"

“Yeah, I think they get it,” Barry cuts in, sounding annoyed, and Felicity winces, giving him an apologetic look. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, you guys make a really cute couple,” Iris’s date says with a sincere smile.

“Oh, sorry!” Iris takes a step back, looping her arm through the guy’s, and tugging him closer. Beside Felicity, Barry goes rigid, tension radiating off of him in a way Felicity’s never seen before. “This is Eddie,” Iris says, beaming. "Eddie, this is Felicity. And you already know Barry."

“I don’t know Barry,” Oliver suddenly announces, stepping forward into the center of the group. He’s wearing a dark suit with a green tie, and he somehow manages to look even bigger than he normally does, the cut of his jacket accentuating the thickness of his arms and chest.

“Um,” Barry says with a nervous smile. “Hi. I’m Barry. I’m Felicity’s…friend.” Oliver doesn’t move, just shifts his gaze over to Felicity, and Barry swallows hard, glancing back at her before taking a step forward and reaching out to shake Oliver’s hand.

Oliver blinks before he reaches out to take Barry’s hand, staring hard at him the entire time. When Oliver’s hand closes around his, Barry’s smile falters, his eyes going wide and pained. Oliver smirks, but he doesn’t let go of Barry’s hand, not even when Barry makes a quiet, pained noise and tries to pull his hand away. 

Felicity narrows her eyes at him because, seriously? What is his problem?

“You’re Felicity’s ex-boyfriend?” Oliver says, ignoring Felicity’s glare and zeroing in on Barry instead.

“Um,” Barry says again, and his voice shakes slightly as he tries again to tug his hand out of Oliver’s grasp. Oliver doesn’t let go though, and Barry grimaces.

“Oliver,” Felicity hisses.

Oliver’s gaze flickers over in her direction. “You guys used to go out?” he says, and a muscle in his jaw jumps. 

“Yeah,” Barry manages, his voice high and pained. “But it was a long time ago."

Oliver’s faces goes hard. “How long?"

“Like last summer,” Barry says a little desperately. He glances over at her, his eyes pleading, and Felicity’s had just about enough of this.

“Oliver!” she says again, loud enough this time that Oliver — along with a couple of other people — turn to look at her. Oliver stares back at her for a couple of beats, his gaze locking with hers, his eyes dark and dangerous. “Leave him alone."

Oliver blinks, and this his whole face changes, his expression softening just enough so that when he smiles, it doesn’t look as much like a threat. “Sorry, man,” he says, finally letting go of Barry’s hand. He’s smiling, but his eyes are hard, and that muscle in his jaw is still ticking away. “Nice to meet you."

“Yeah,” Barry says, finally pulling his hand out of Oliver’s grasp with an audible sigh of relief. He takes a couple of steps back, shaking his hand like he’s trying to get some feeling back into it. “You too."

There’s a stretch of silence after that, the Taylor Swift song that’s been blaring from the DJ booth fading out, and Felicity tries really hard not to react to the way that Oliver’s staring at her right now. Because as far as she knows, they’re still trying to do the whole not telling anyone thing. 

"Can I talk to you outside?” Oliver says, apparently not concerned with the whole secret-keeping thing judging from the way he is absolutely acting like a jealous boyfriend in front of pretty much the entire school, and then he brushes past her, striding through the gym before she even has a chance to answer.

Everyone is staring at her now, Barry and Iris and Eddie and like a whole other little crowd of people, and she has no idea what she’s supposed to say to any of them. So she just turns on her heel and walks away, trailing Oliver through the crowd of people and out of the gym. By the time she makes it outside, the hallway is empty, Oliver nowhere in sight as the heavy double doors to the gym swing shut. It takes her a few minutes, but she finally finds him down one of the hallways, the one that leads to the science wing, pacing back and forth in front of a wall of lockers, looking pissed. 

“You didn’t tell me you and Barry used to go out,” Oliver says accusingly, and Felicity feels a brief surge of contrition. Which is completely insane. She seriously can’t believe he’s mad at her right now. If anyone should be mad, it should be her at him for almost breaking Barry’s hand. 

“I didn’t think it would matter,” Felicity tells him, which is the truth. Because, really, why on earth would Oliver care that she went out with Barry like a million years ago? Not that Barry isn’t great, because he is—he’s sweet and he’s funny and he’s cute and, if she’s being honest, Felicity’s still not sure why they didn’t work other than the whole lack of butterflies thing—but Oliver is…he’s _Oliver._

“I can’t believe you lied to me.” He’s still pacing, but he manages to throw a glare in her direction, like he’s completely in the right and she’s in the wrong, and her confusion turns into anger.

“I didn’t lie,” Felicity protests, her voice rising. She should probably keep it down, but it’s not like there’s anyone else out here and the music from the dance is pretty loud and, besides, it’s not like Oliver seems to care much about discretion these days. 

“Right,” Oliver scoffs.

"So, what?" Felicity demands. "You're allowed to dance with your ex-girlfriend in front of the entire school, but I can't dance with Barry?"

"I had to dance with her!" Oliver stops pacing, standing across from her, his body tense and his fists clenched at his side. "You were dancing with Barry because you wanted to."

Felicity rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, feeling a little thrill of satisfaction when Oliver glances down at her chest. “Why do you even care?” she says. 

“Because, I love you, Felicity,” he snaps, and Felicity's not sure who is more surprised by that, him or her. Because Oliver's mouth snaps shut and his eyes go wide and kind of panicky, and Felicity feels like all of the oxygen has been sucked right out of the room.

He doesn't take it back though, and her heart has started doing this strange flipping thing in her chest, and it's like her brain can't quite process what he just said because he’s Oliver Queen, and he’s gone out with dozens of girls and they’ve barely known each other a month. And okay, yeah, she’s pretty sure she loves him too, but this is all happening very fast and they were just fighting and now Oliver’s looking at her in this really intense way, and she probably needs to say something right now.

Instead, she kisses him, pulling him towards her by his tie, trying to tell herself it’s going to be okay that Oliver just told her he loved her and she couldn’t seem to get the words out. Oliver kisses her back, a slight hitch of hesitation in his movements the only sign that he might be hurt. But then he's running his tongue along her lower lip pressing her against the wall of lockers behind them, the handle on one of the lockers digging into her back painfully.

Her whole body is humming, like there’s electricity running under her skin, and she can't believe Oliver just said he loves her, her heart skipping wildly as she kisses him, the words playing over and over again in her head.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the unexpected (and very long) hiatus; real life has a way of getting in the way of fandom sometimes. Many thanks to those of you who are sticking with this story--I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Oliver has done some dumb things in his life, but he thinks telling Felicity he loved her right in the middle of a fight might be the dumbest yet. Not because it’s a lie, but just because she didn’t say it back. Instead, she kissed him, which was great and amazing, just like it always is when she kisses him, but…he told her he loved her. He’s never told a girl he loved her. He can't believe she didn't say it back. And now, everything just feels kind of horrible.

At first it was kind of exhilarating, standing in the hallway outside of the gym, his heart racing so fast he thought it was going to beat right out of his chest. But then Felicity didn’t say it back, and his heart stuttered a little, an uneasy feeling settling heavy in his stomach even as she kissed him, deep and eager, her body flush against his, his fingers pressed against her warm, smooth skin above her hip.

And then she keeps _not_ saying it back — on Sunday when he stops by her house while her mom is at work, and on Monday when they spend their lunch break in one of the empty chemistry classrooms, and on Tuesday when they end up making out behind the bleachers after Oliver finishes football practice — and the horrible feeling just gets worse and worse, settling deep in his gut, twisting painfully whenever Felicity looks at him and doesn’t say it back.

It’s gotten to the point where he’s starting to regret ever saying it at all.

*

“You’ve got a calc test next Thursday, right?” Felicity says. It’s Wednesday afternoon, which means they’re at his house for tutoring, their homework scattered in front of them on the table, calculus and chemistry and history. It’s been four days since he told Felicity he loved her, and he’s pretty sure she’s never going to say it. “Want to start with that?"

Oliver shrugs, but he pulls his math text book across the table. He opens his book, flipping through it until he gets to the sections they’re on in class, slopes and curves and a bunch of other stuff he barely understands. Beside him, Felicity scoots her chair a little closer to him, her knee bumping up against his under the table and her arm pressed against his. She glances at him sidelong, biting her bottom lip in this way that makes both his heart skip and his stomach clench, and he moves away from her, trying to be subtle about it because he’s way too much of a coward to explain why he’s upset.

Felicity blinks, looking hurt and then putting her hand lightly on his forearm. Her fingernails are painted bright bubblegum pink. “Are you okay?"

“I’m fine,” Oliver shrugs, shifting his arm so they’re not touching.

“Oliver?” Felicity reaches out for him again, but he dodges her, leaning away from her and reaching for the notebook with his calc notes. Or at least he thinks it’s his calc notebook, but when he opens it, it’s actually his lit notes, Big Brother and the Ministry of Truth and the Thought Police. But Felicity’s still watching him so he just flips to a blank page and starts writing out the first problem from his math homework.

"Hey," she tries again, her voice low and worried.

“Thea’s going to be home from school soon,” Oliver says shortly, concentrating on drawing the lines for his graph, his pencil pressing so hard into the page as he traces out the x-axis that the point snaps.

“Okay,” Felicity says slowly, and Oliver can tell without even looking at her that she’s frowning, doing that crinkly thing with her eyebrows. Like she's confused and has no idea what could be bothering him. For someone so smart, she can be pretty dumb sometimes.

He doesn’t say anything else, just tosses the broken pencil aside and rummages through his backpack for another one, trying to ignore the hurt look on Felicity’s face.

“Oliver—“ she finally says, but then Thea’s pushing open the library doors, and Felicity doesn’t get a chance to finish whatever she was going to say. Oliver’s weirdly grateful for that, and he gives Thea a quick smile, which she completely misses since she’s busy texting, her head down as she taps away on her phone.

Thea slides onto a chair across the table from them, dropping her backpack to the floor with a dull thud without so much as glancing in their direction, all of her attention focused on her phone. Felicity watches her expectantly for a few beats, but Thea doesn’t look up. When Felicity finally glances at him, Oliver shrugs, not sure what the deal is.

“Hey,” he finally says, nudging Thea’s foot with his under the table until she finally looks at him with a huge sigh.

“What?" she demands, like asking her to stop texting for half a second is some huge imposition

“Put the phone down, Speedy," he tells her.

“Why?” Thea says in her snottiest kid sister voice. Oliver nudges her a little harder under the table, hard enough that it's almost a kick, and Thea snaps her head up to glare at him.

“Because Felicity is here to help you with your homework, not to watch you text your brat friends."

“Actually, Felicity is here to help _you_ with _your_ homework,” Thea tells him petulantly, which is pretty rich coming from her since she almost always monopolizes all of Felicity’s time, making Felicity help her with her boring middle school busy wok.

But Oliver’s not going to argue with her about it, especially not with Felicity there, since bickering with his kid sister is probably not the way to get Felicity to say that she loves him. So instead, Oliver uses his most mature voice to ask: “Who are you texting, anyway?"

“Madison,” Thea says, sighing another huge, put-upon sigh before putting down the phone. “I’m staying at her house this weekend, and we’re _trying_ to figure out how to get to Liam’s party because her mother is refusing to take us just because his parents aren't going to be there. Like, duh, that's the whole point."

Oliver blinks, studiously ignoring the part of the conversation where his little sister is trying to scam her way into a boy-girl party without chaperones. “You’re staying at Madison’s this weekend?"

“Yep,” Thea says, pulling a worksheet out of her backpack and then dropping it on the table when her phone buzzes again. She smirks when she looks at the screen, her thumbs tapping away as she texts.

Oliver clears his throat, trying to get her attention. “Since when?"

Thea barely glances up at him. “Since Mom and Dad are spending the whole weekend in Gotham,” she says in her best know-it-all kid sister voice, the one that implies he’s pretty much the biggest idiot on the planet.

Which Oliver actually feels like right now, since he had no idea about any of this. So: “They are?” he asks dumbly. Beside them, Felicity is watching the whole exchange with open curiosity, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

“Duh,” Thea says, still texting away. “They have to go to some big gala or something. Mom was talking about like all night at dinner yesterday. Don’t you _ever_ pay attention, Ollie?"

*

Finding out his parents are going to be gone all weekend is pretty awesome. Normally, it would mean that Oliver would throw a big, blow-out party at his house, one that started right after school on Friday and lasted all the way until Sunday morning. But there are a lot of other things he'd like to do this weekend, all of them involving just him and Felicity.

And, really, the more he thinks about it, the more he decides that what he and Felicity need is a weekend away together, somewhere they can go where they don’t have to think about his mother or her mother or his friends or their relationship being some big secret thing that they can’t tell anyone about.

It’s enough to make him stop obsessing over the dance, over Felicity not saying she loves him back, and he spends pretty much all of Thursday getting his plan for the weekend ready. He's got football practice after school, which means he has to skip out on their lunch together to make a couple of calls to set things up. Felicity looks kind of hurt when he tells her he's not going to make it to lunch, but Oliver knows it will be worth it in the end, even if she's a little upset right now. He ends up not seeing Felicity for the rest of the day; by the time he gets home after practice, it's time for dinner, which turns out to last about a million years since his dad invited one of his business associates to the house and Oliver has to play the role of dutiful son and hopeful future CEO. His phone keeps buzzing in his pocket and it takes everything in him not to pull it out and check it. By the time he finally gets to his room, it's almost ten o'clock, and he's got six texts and one missed call from Felicity.

Oliver has a decent amount of homework to do, mostly calculus stuff he doesn't understand at all, so he texts Felicity, asking her a question about proofs he knows is way too complicated her to text him about. Sure enough, his phone rings just a couple of seconds after he hits send, and he smirks, leaning back in his desk chair as he answers the phone.

"Do you really not remember how to do that proof?" Felicity demands by way of greeting. "We worked on it for more than an hour yesterday."

Oliver smiles against the phone, and he doesn't think he'll ever get used to the way that just hearing her voice makes his heart skip in his chest. “What are you doing this weekend?” he says instead of answering her question. On the other end of the line, Felicity's silent, and Oliver forces himself to wait it out, giving her time to respond.

“Um,” Felicity finally says. “Nothing. Why?"

Oliver smiles, leaning further back in his chair, kicking his feet up on his desk. “Do you like boats?"

“Um,” Felicity says again, and Oliver smiles wider, secretly pleased about how at a loss for words she seems. “I guess. I mean, I think so. I’ve never actually spent much time on boats. Or any time on boats, really. Well, my fifth grade class took a field trip to Starling Park, and we rented those paddle boats, the ones that look like swans, and that was fun right up until Robbie Taylor decided he wanted to feed the real swans and they started chasing the boat and, long story short, I spent the rest of the afternoon wringing lake water out of my hair and, uh, why do you want to know?"

Oliver grins against the phone. “My parents have a house on Starfish Island. I thought we could take my dad’s yacht out there, make a weekend out of it."

Felicity’s silent for a couple of beats and then: “Your dad’s _yacht_?” she says, in the voice she uses whenever he says something completely absurd.

Oliver laughs. “It’s not like a huge yacht or anything. Just a cruiser. Barely forty feet."

Felicity snorts, and he doesn’t have to see her to know she’s rolling her eyes right now. “And when would we leave for this yachting adventure?"

“Tomorrow morning. We could skip out on classes, head out first thing..."

“Oliver,” Felicity sighs, sounding disappointed. “I don’t—"

“Or,” he says, cutting her off because he knew the whole skipping school thing wasn’t going to be an easy sell. “We could leave right after school. There’s not a game this week, and Coach Wilson’s not making us practice. The island’s just a couple of hours away; if we went straight to the marina, we could make it to the house before sunset."

He’s actually got a lot of other convincing arguments lined up, so he doesn’t expect it when Felicity says, “Okay. Yeah. That sounds like fun."

It takes Oliver a second to respond, still kind of floored that she agreed so quickly. “Yeah?"

“Yeah."

Oliver smiles. “Cool."

*

Despite what he told Felicity, Oliver does end up skipping school on Friday. He means to go, he really does, if only to show up for chemistry and then skip out before second period. But there’s actually a lot of stuff he needs to get set up on the boat, and he’s worried that if he goes to school and then ditches, he might get caught. And the last thing he needs right now is for Principal Steele to catch him cutting class.

So he heads out to the marina instead, blithely ignoring the disappointed texts Felicity sends him when she realizes he’s not coming to school. She’ll get over it, he knows. Besides, there really is a ton of stuff he needs to get done before they head out tonight if they’re going to make it to the island before dusk, and he’s pretty sick of constantly worrying about school all the time.

*

Oliver’s sitting in his car in the parking lot behind the school when the final bell rings, trying to look inconspicuous as everyone leaves for the day. He keeps his eyes on the back door, watching as everyone pours outside, looking for the tell-tale ponytail and glasses.

It seems like the entire school has made it out to the parking lot by the time Felicity finally appears, walking out of the school next to that kid Barry, the two of them just chattering away. Oliver gets out of the car, trying to ignore the jolt of jealousy that spikes through him as he watches Felicity smile, laughing easily at something Barry just said. She’s only a few yards away when she notices him, her forehead crinkling slightly when she realizes Oliver’s standing there. She takes a step away from Barry, and Oliver can’t help taking a possessive step closer to her.

“Hey,” he says, casual, trying to play it cool.

“Hi,” Felicity says back, looking up at him and squinting against the sun, her face scrunching up in this completely adorable way. Beside her, Barry looks more than a little terrified, which suits Oliver just fine. “I thought we weren’t going to skip today."

“We didn’t skip today,” Oliver tells her, and he is just really glad to see her. “I skipped."

Felicity sighs, disappointed. “Oliver…"

“Hey, so I’m gonna go,” Barry interjects, and Oliver flicks a glance in his direction. “Because I’ve…got to go. See you on Monday?” he says, turning toward Felicity.

“Yeah,” Felicity says, still staring at Oliver for a beat before she turns to Barry, her face softening slightly. “Have a good weekend, Barry."

“You too,” Barry says, giving them both an awkward wave before hiking his backpack over his shoulder and then practically zooming away from them.

Felicity watches him go, that soft look still on her face as she waves goodbye to him, and Oliver clears his throat, the jealousy spiking through him again.

“So,” Oliver says, when Felicity finally looks away from Barry and back over to him. "Do we need to stop by your house before we head out to the marina?"

Felicity shakes her head, shrugging one shoulder sheepishly. “I mean, my mom thinks I’m staying at Caitlin’s this weekend, and I brought all my stuff in my backpack, so," she shrugs again. "We’re good."

Oliver eyes her backpack skeptically. He knows from experience she’s got at least three textbooks in there, which leaves hen in the way of anything else. “That’s all you’re bringing?"

Felicity glances down at her bag, biting her lip. “Yes? I mean, I brought my toothbrush and some clothes and my bathing suit, but, I mean, that barely takes up any room at all."

Oliver looks at her sidelong, smirking as his eyes flick up and down her body. “Well, that’s good to hear."

Felicity blushes, her cheeks turning pink, the color going all the way up to the tips of her ears. She looks really pretty today, the late afternoon sun making her ponytail glow gold and bright, and it takes everything in him not to kiss her right here in the school parking lot.

"Ready to go?" he asks instead, imagining how she's going to look on the deck of his dad's boat, in her hopefully very tiny bathing suit, the water glinting off her glasses. 

Felicity nods, her face scrunched up as she squints into the sun to look up at him. "Ready."

Oliver opens the passenger door for her and she smiles, darting a quick glance around the parking lot before she stands up on her tiptoes and presses her lips against his, kissing him soft and sweet, so quick that he doesn't even have time to kiss her back before she's pulling away. 

"I'm really excited about this weekend," she tells him seriously.

Her voice is low and a little rough, and the warm buzz of desire builds hot and low in his belly. He really wants to kiss her again, making it last this time, but the parking lot still isn't empty, kids hanging around their cars, marching band practice starting over on the soccer fields, and this is still supposed to be a secret, just between them.

So he just holds the door open as she ducks into his car, his heart somersaulting in his chest and the feel of her lips lingering against his cheek, and he's pretty sure this weekend is the best idea he's ever had.


End file.
